


Ethereal

by DNAchemLia, thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DNAchemLia/pseuds/DNAchemLia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs gets his information pretty easily. Thanks to something hinky, that just got even easier. Every cloud has a silver lining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [As Rare Things Will](https://archiveofourown.org/works/786584) by [DNAchemLia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DNAchemLia/pseuds/DNAchemLia). 



> Written by DNAchemLia and thecookiemomma for the NFA AU Times Two and Four Rooms/Trust Fall Challenges. Alternate ending to Lia’s As Rare Things Will.

Tim McGee slowly opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times to clear the haze that clouded his vision. When he finally registered what he was seeing, he bolted upright with a sharp gasp of surprise. Instead of lying in his bed, as one might expect upon waking, or slumped over at his desk, an all-too-frequent occurrence, he was sitting on the edge of a two lane blacktop road, surrounded by a dense forest. At first glance it appeared that he was alone, but a second look revealed a familiar form lying at the base of a thicket of trees a few yards away.

 

“Tony!”

 

Tim scrambled to his feet and dashed over to his partner. He paused a moment, fearing the worst before he reached down and gave Tony’s shoulder a good shake. “Tony, wake up…”

 

With a startled grunt, the older man jerked awake and rolled over to look up at his partner. Fear, then surprise crossed his face before he finally managed to speak.

 

“Tim? You…you’re OK?”

 

“Yeah, I think so. You?” He helped Tony to his feet and when the senior agent was steady he grasped Tim’s shoulders and gave him the once over.

 

“You sure you’re OK? I could have sworn… Never mind. What happened?”

 

“I was hoping you knew. The last thing I remember was walking down this road in the dark.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” A strange look crossed Tony’s face. “You really don’t remember anything else?”

 

“No, why?”

 

Tony shook his head. “Must have been a dream…or a hallucination.”

 

“Hallucination? What, you think someone drugged us and dumped us out here?”

 

“It’s possible. I’d prefer that to…” A strange expression crossed Tony’s face.

“Never mind.”

 

Tim felt an inexplicable chill down his spine. “Tony, what do you remember?”

 

“Not important, Tim. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

Tim was about to ask where ‘here’ was when suddenly a memory clicked into place. “Our car. It died, and we were going for help. Which direction did we come from?”

 

Tony looked around and groaned. “No idea. Should we flip a coin?”

 

Tim studied their surroundings for a few moments before pointing towards the forest on the opposite side of the road. “That way is north. Do you remember which direction you were driving when the car died?”

 

“East, I think. That detour got me pretty turned around.”

 

Tim remembered that he had been sleeping and missed the detour, so he wouldn’t be much help. “West should take us back to the car, then. Right?”

 

“I sure hope so. Come on.”

 

Both men started walking along the edge of the road. The woods surrounding them were silent, and even the expected sounds of distant traffic didn’t reach them. It was a little creepy in Tim’s opinion, and he would certainly be glad to return to civilization. Speaking of which… Tim reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his cell phone and was startled to discover that it wasn’t there. He searched his other pockets to find that not only was his cell phone missing, his wallet, badge, and gun were all missing as well.

 

“What are you doing, McFidget?”

 

“Everything’s gone. Someone went through my pockets and took everything.” Tony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he checked his own pockets.

 

“Mine, too. They also took the car keys.”

 

“Not that they’d do us much good since the car’s dead.”

 

“True…”

 

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Tony spoke.

 

“Gibbs is going to kill us. You realize that, don’t you?”

 

“I can already feel the head-slap.”

 

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not looking forward to explaining this, especially since we have no idea what happened.”

 

“I guess we’ll have to figure it out. If we go with the ‘drugged and dumped’ theory, we’ve got tests to look forward to when we get back.” Tim gave Tony an evil smirk. “And we know how much you love needles.”

 

Tony shuddered. “You would think of that. And you better hope _you_ didn’t manage to roll in a patch of poison ivy.”

 

Tim rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, I do know what that stuff looks like.”

 

“Now.”

 

“Yes, _now_. I didn’t see any around either of us.”

 

“Lucky for you, then.”

 

Tim ignored the comment and kept on walking. After nearly an hour they rounded a bend in the road and a welcome sight met their eyes.

 

“At least we found the car,” Tony muttered in relief.

 

“Now what?”

 

“We’ll wait until someone comes along. It’s daytime. Someone _has_ to come along eventually.”

 

“I hope so. Not looking forward to another night out here.”

 

That same odd look that had crossed Tony’s face earlier appeared again. “Me either.”

 

Tim stopped walking and grabbed his partner’s arm, bringing the other man to a halt. “OK, Tony, what’s going on? What’s got you so freaked out? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. You remember something from last night, don’t you?”

 

“It wasn’t real. Couldn’t have been.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because…I remember you being dead.”

 

Tim froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. _“What?”_

 

Tony sighed. “We were walking down that road, it was pitch black, and suddenly you weren’t beside me any more. I…I heard you scream.”

 

“I don’t remember any of that.”

 

Tony chuckled weakly. “That’s probably a good thing, Probie.”

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“I was feeling around in the dark and I found, well, at least I thought it was you. You weren’t moving, and…blood. I could smell blood.”

 

Tim felt his stomach twist as nausea started to tighten his throat. “That’s one hell of a vivid hallucination.”

 

“Yeah. Guess you got lucky this time…not seeing anything like that.”

 

“What happened next?”

 

“No idea. I don’t remember anything else. Just darkness.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s OK. Just promise me you won’t do that to me for real.”

 

Tim managed a smile. “I’ll try not to.”

 

“Good.” Tony patted his shoulder before walking over to examine the sedan. It didn’t look like it had been damaged, but without keys or a working engine they had no choice but to wait for another car to come along.

 

“Everything OK?”

 

“Looks like it. At least Gibbs can’t kill us for that.”

 

“Small mercies.” Tim started to lean against the car but stopped when he felt nothing against his back. Wondering how he could have misjudged the distance he turned to look at the car and froze.

 

Instead of hovering just above the surface of the sedan, as he expected, he had… _phased_ through it, as if the car wasn’t even there. He blinked and looked again, but the scene remained the same. He jerked back, expecting to feel _something_ as his body passed back through the car, but there was nothing. No pain, not even a twinge. Cautiously he extended his arm to touch the hood of the sedan and watched in horror as his hand sank through the hood with no resistance.

 

“Uh, Tony?”

 

The older man had moved a few yards down the road, presumably to search for approaching vehicles. He turned to Tim with a rather annoyed expression on his face.

 

“What?”

 

“Look.” Tim pulled his hand out of the car and then pushed it back in. Tony’s eyes widened almost comically when he realized what Tim was doing.

 

“What in the Hell? Your hand…how are you doing that?” He walked over and grabbed Tim’s arm, pulling it from the car. It was almost a relief to Tim to feel Tony’s grip, but the relief quickly evaporated when Tony tried to put his own hand on the hood of the car and it, too, sank through the top with no visible resistance. Tony jerked his hand back out and stared at it for a moment before trying again with the same result. “What in the Hell…”

 

“Hallucination?” Tim asked and winced at the plaintive note in his voice. He was desperately trying to keep his grip on reality.

 

“Can two people have the exact same hallucination?”

 

“I don’t know… I don’t think so.” He searched his memory for an alterative explanation. “Maybe it’s some sort of…I don’t know, virtual reality projection? Everything we’re seeing is part of the illusion, right? It’s not really there, and that’s why it looks like our hands are passing through what we’re trying to touch.”

 

Tony shook his head as an agonized expression appeared in his eyes. “I think you’re ignoring the obvious, McGee.”

 

“The obvious? What are you talking about?”

 

“Everything we’re seeing is real, and solid, but we’re not.”

 

“That doesn’t make sense, Tony. We can touch each other. We _have_ to be real. What other choice is there?”

 

“We could be dead, Tim.”

 

“ _Dead?_ ” Tim couldn’t help but scoff. “You mean we’re _ghosts_? There’s no such thing, Tony.”

 

“And there’s such a thing as a virtual reality projection that’s this realistic?”

 

“Well, no, not that anyone has published, but there at least a _possibility_ that it exists.”

 

Before Tony could respond they noticed the sound of a car approaching. Soon the vehicle appeared and slowed when the driver apparently caught sight of the sedan. Tim stepped out and waved to get the driver’s attention and the car slowed to a halt, much to Tim’s relief. The door of the car opened and the driver, an older man, stepped out and turned to stare at the sedan, a thoughtful look on his face.

 

“Excuse me, sir? We’re federal agents. Our car broke down, and we really need to get in touch with out boss. Can I borrow your cell phone? I’m afraid we both lost ours, and…” Finally Tim noticed that he was being ignored. “Sir? Can you hear me?” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellphone. “Oh, good.” Tim held out his hand but the man ignored him and dialed a number before putting the phone to his ear.

 

“Clara? It’s Walt Hoskins. Can you tell Gary there’s an abandoned car out on Old Cemetery Road, about eight miles from the turnoff? No, looks brand new. Hang on, let me check.” Still ignoring the two men, he walked to the front of the sedan and looked down at the license plate. “Virginia, XXJ 6610. Looks like a government plate.” He looked up and scanned the area, his gaze passing right over Tim and Tony. “No, there’s nobody around. Alright. Will do. Thanks, Clara.” The man got back in his car and drove off. Tim watched him disappear around a bend in the road as he struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

 

“Still think this is a virtual reality?”

 

Tim turned to Tony. “W-what?”

 

“He didn’t see us. He didn’t hear _you_. I hate to say I told you so…”

 

“You love to say ‘I told you so’,” Tim snapped as the fear he had been trying to keep at bay finally boiled to the surface. “This…this is _impossible._ I don’t believe…”

 

Tony grinned. “You best start believing in ghost stories, McGee. You’re in one.”

 

Tim stared at Tony in disbelief. “ _Seriously_? I thought you hated that movie?”

 

“I didn’t hate it. The special effects were pretty cool…”

 

Tim shook his head. It was almost a relief that at least one thing in this whole crazy situation was normal…

 

“This is crazy. We can’t be…dead.”

 

“It fits the evidence.”

 

“Evidence? There’s no evidence. There’s nothing that makes any sense!”

 

“Tim…”

 

“No! I don’t want to hear it. I’m going to figure this out…” He could feel panic clouding his mind, but something else was wrong and after a few moments he realized what it was. Tim put his hand up to his neck, expecting to feel the evidence of his distress. He pressed harder, still not experiencing what he expected. Finally he turned to Tony, only to see a sad, knowing look on the other man’s face.

 

“Tony, I…I can’t feel my heartbeat.”

 

Tony nodded. “I know. Can’t feel mine, either.”

 

“But…” Suddenly the strength left his legs and Tim fell to his knees. Tony was at his side almost immediately, helping to hold him upright. “Oh god…” He looked up at his partner. “How…how did this happen, Tony?”

 

“I wish I knew, Tim.”

 

Finally he was steady enough to stand up again. He glanced around at the silent woods before returning his attention to Tony.  


“So what do we do now?”

 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I have no great desire to spend eternity in the middle of nowhere. I suggest we get out of here.”

 

“Can we even do that?”

 

“Don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”

 

“But where should we go?”

 

“Only once place I can think of. How about you?”

 

Tim thought for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, me too. Let’s go.”

 

The two men started walking towards the east, to the road they hoped would lead them back to their home. Back to NCIS.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs sat in the bullpen, trying to do his work. It didn't seem that long since he had found out about two of his best agents, and it showed. He sat at his desk, staring at the screen, not seeing anything on it. He sighed. The agents milled around him, searching through the men's desks, for signs of what went wrong, for signs of corruption...

One agent, Torron, Gibbs thought he remembered, let out an exclamation when he found the awards in Tony's bottom drawer. “Agent Gibbs, why are your awards in Agent DiNozzo's drawer?”

“Because he kept 'em. I'd have thrown 'em away,” Gibbs replied, his words carrying none of the heat they normally would. He was just tired. It'd already been a long couple of days.

The agents asked a few more inane questions, and Gibbs' ire rose with each one. Finally, one of them noticed his gaze hardening, and cut off the questions pretty quickly. Truth be told, Gibbs didn't know that much.

Gibbs had noticed their absence very quickly. Because they were on an active case, the twenty-four hour rule had been waived, and NCIS, FBI, local cops and everyone were out looking for the two men. They were in an agency-issued sedan, but for some reason, the GPS wasn't picking them up.

So, instead of having a point of origin and being able to work outward from there, they had a 'last point' and had to work their way toward where the car could be. That took awhile, because there was something … off about the area they'd been found in.

Ziva walked in, set another cup of coffee on his desk, and looked at him, eyes sad, but determined. “Have they found anything else, Gibbs?”

“No, Ziver, nothin' else to go on. You sure you haven't heard anything?” He looked up, hopeful she had something from her network.

“No, I have not been able to find anything that would help us find out who ...” She fell silent, unable to say the words.

“Damn. Alright.” Gibbs sat back, recalling the moment he'd found out. It'd been Fornell who'd come over to talk to him.

“ _Uh, Jethro, you're gonna wanna sit down for this.” Fornell had walked into his basement, appropriated his cup, poured it full of bourbon, and handed it to him. “Drink that down.”_

“ _Yeah?” Tobias never acted like this unless it was extremely bad news. “You got somethin' to tell me?” He swigged the bourbon easily, then looked up at his friend. “Lay it on me.”_

_The fire in his gut from the booze turned immediately to ice as Fornell spoke. “LEOs found the car, Jethro. They … also found...”_

“ _Spit it out, it's not gonna hurt less if you drag it out. Hurt more, in fact.” He knew this from experience._

“ _They looked all through that area. No sign of them. They're not sure how...” Fornell looked uncomfortable. “They're not sure what in the hell happened.”_

“ _I'm going to go look for 'em.” Gibbs spoke up._

“ _That's what I thought you'd say. I'm authorized to give you a team or so to help. Lotta people like your kids, Jethro.” Jethro knew this was Fornell's way of saying 'I like your kids, too.' He smiled for a moment, then strode upstairs to get ready to go search._

The sound of his name broke him out of his reverie. “Gibbs.” Vance stood there in front of him, head tilted slightly, gazing directly at him with eyes full of empathy. Gibbs just wanted to head slap somebody.

He grunted his question, and Vance continued.

“They have decided to call off the search. They can't find any sign of them, and it's been...” Leon rolled the toothpick around in his mouth.

“I know how long it's been, Leon,” Gibbs said, glaring at the Director.

“I know, Jethro. But we can't afford to spend any more resources looking for them, especially in that area. There are some questions about …” The look on Vance's face explained it. There was something hinky in that area, and nobody wanted to deal with it. “I think you need to go down and talk to the rest of your team.”

“Damn right, I do. Thanks, Leon. You comin'?” He quirked his head toward the elevator.

“Yeah, I'll come down for a moment. I need to get back to all the rest of this. I have the Admiral on my ass, and Penny, and Senior...” Vance pulled the toothpick out of his mouth. “How the hell did this happen, Gibbs?”

“Gonna find that out, Director. Might take a while, from the report I read.” Gibbs frowned and hit the elevator button, heading down to the basement.

“Well, resources are yours, as long as it doesn't take precedence over an active investigation.”

“Appreciate that.” Gibbs nodded.

The two men rode in silence for the few seconds it took to get to Ducky's domain. They walked out, and Vance settled a hand on Gibbs' shoulder. “For what it's worth, Gibbs, I hope you find your men.”

A lump formed in Gibbs' throat, and he nodded, keeping his comments to himself. He opened up the door, and opened his arms, and Abby ran straight into them, mascara running down her face again. He sighed, pulled out the handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped her face gently, getting the worst of it off. “S'okay, Abbs,” he murmured, not believing it himself. His boys were gone. He pulled the crying woman closer, and nodded to Ducky. “They're calling off the search.” He spoke the words just straight out, and Abby's tears intensified.

“Oh, my, Jethro,” Ducky sighed, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes, unashamed of the tears. “I will certainly miss them horribly.” He moved to sit down on the stool. “I take it that will not be the end of it for you?”

“Can't spend Agency resources unless we're on cold cases, but yeah.” Gibbs nodded. He had found out who had killed his wife and daughter; he would find out who had killed his agents. “C'mon, Abbs. Lets go get you a Caff-Pow.” He walked out of the room, arms still wrapped around his scientist.

“Don't want one, Gibbs.” Abby looked up, her eyes red from crying.

“Yeah, you do. You wanna be ready when they find somethin'.” He smiled, a sad smile, and walked with his favorite tech toward her domain.

When they got there, she flailed her hands and sighed. “I haven’t been able to find anything, Gibbs. Anything.” She shook her head. “It’s all so _hinky_!” He understood her completely this time. It was definitely hinky. “And the car is in perfect order, so I don’t know why … It even had a nearly-full tank of gas, so that’s not it. I mean, I went _through_ that thing, Gibbs. You know how sometimes, cars can just do something wonky and it won’t…” She waved her arms again, and Gibbs nodded, pressing another soft kiss to her temple.

“Slow down, Abbs, and tell me.” Gibbs smiled, happy to have one thing still the same. That thought reminded him of his boys again, and the smile slipped away. 

“Sometimes, a car’ll do weird things, like work until just the right set of circumstances are there. You know? Some weird connection of happenings that’ll just make it weird. But nothing, Gibbs. You know the guys in motorpool keep those things running like well-oiled machines. They _are_ well-oiled machines, Gibbs. But anyway, there was _nothing_ wrong with it. It looked exactly like it did when it left here, which is to say, perfect. So, _that’s so hinky_.” 

“I know, Abbs. I know.” She’d told him this before, but hearing it again solidified the facts in his mind. He sighed, and gave her one last kiss, then left to go get her Caff-Pow. 


	3. Chapter 3

After what had seemed like forever, Tony and Tim reached the Navy Yard. Tim had been quiet for most of their travels, and although the younger man had never been all that talkative, his extended silence worried Tony, pushing his guilt over their situation to the surface.

 

“You OK over there, McGee?”

 

Tim turned and gave him an incredulous look. “Seriously? You’re asking if I’m OK?”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

Tim snorted softly but then his expression softened. “Sorry. I just…I keep hoping I’ll wake up. That this is all just a nightmare.”

 

“Yeah…me, too. But you shouldn’t apologize—“

 

“Sign of weakness, I know. Don’t think that matters much now.”

 

“No, _I’m_ the one who should apologize.”

 

A puzzled expression crossed Tim’s face. “Why?”

 

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

 

“Remember what?”

 

“What happened to us, it’s my fault.”

 

Tim stopped walking and his forehead crinkled as he tried to process what Tony had admitted. “How was us dying in the middle of nowhere your fault?”

 

Tony sighed. “Because I made the call to leave the car and go try and find help. I led us right to…whatever happened.”

 

Tim just stared at him in silence for a few moments before he started walking again. Tony took a few hurried steps to catch up with him and then kept pace with his partner as he headed for the building that housed NCIS. Finally Tim spoke.

 

“Did you know the area was dangerous?”

 

“Well, no…”

 

“Did you intend for us to…for this to happen?”

 

“Of course not!”

 

“Then it’s not your fault. You didn’t know, any more than I did. I followed your lead, and I could just have well refused, and let you go alone. We didn’t know.”

 

“Yeah, but—“

 

“Tony.”

 

“What?”

 

“That isn’t going to help. What’s done…is done. We can’t go back.”

 

“I know, but…damn it, I should have known better.”

 

“Yeah, you probably should’ve, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

 

This time puzzlement appeared in Tony’s expression. “You’re being a little too reasonable about this. What’s going on in that gigantic brain of yours?”

 

“Look, we…we’re kind of stuck with each other and I don’t imagine being pissed off at you for eternity would be a good way to spend my time.”

 

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Tony admitted, tamping down his fear that McGee would actually take him up on the offer.

 

Tim gave him a weak smile. “I imagine being alone would be worse, at least eventually.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“As for being calm, you were on a pretty even keel earlier when _I_ was freaking out. I figured I should return the favor.”

 

“Good point.”

 

Tim studied his partner. “Why _were_ you so calm?”

 

“I guess I already knew, even before your little incident with the car. What I saw the night before…it was too real to have been a dream. It _felt_ too real, and…well, it was almost a relief to know I hadn’t gone crazy.”

 

“Crazy is worse than dead?”

 

Tony snorted. “I think plenty of people would back me up on that, Probie.”

 

“Maybe. And now?”

 

“Now…I’m trying not to think about it too much, ‘cause if I do…”

 

“Yeah, I get it. You starting thinking about all the stuff you didn’t get a chance to do. All the people that you left behind, and…”

 

“And the fact that my father actually managed to outlive me. Still trying to figure out how that happened.”

 

“Me, too. My father, I mean.” A flash of anguish crossed Tim’s face and Tony grimaced.

 

“Sorry, man.”

 

“You know, I think we should have a moratorium on apologies.”

 

“Yeah? Why?”

 

“Because there’s really nothing we can do about it.”

 

“True. OK, deal. No more ‘sorry’.” Tim nodded in agreement and they continued walking until they reached the front doors of their building.

 

“Hey. Do you think we’re in there?”

 

“What?”

 

“You know, our bodies. Someone had to have found us, so do you think we’re down in Autopsy right now?”

 

“That’s pretty morbid, Tony.”

 

“Oh, right, tell me you weren’t wondering the same thing.”

 

“No, not really.”

 

“Should we go look?”

 

Tim shuddered. “I really don’t want to witness my own autopsy, Tony.”

 

“Aw come on, we’ve been walking for days. I’m sure Ducky’s finished with us by now.”

 

“Tony…”

 

“OK, OK. So where should we go?”

 

“Maybe we should make sure we can actually get in the building, first.”

 

“What, you think security is going to stop us?”

 

Tim walked up and tried to pull on the door handle, only to have his hand pass right through. He turned to Tony with an ‘I told you so’ expression on his face. Tony grinned and gave the other agent a shove, causing him to stumble and fall right through the glass to the other side.

 

“Problem solved,” he called and walked through the door, stopping to help Tim to his feet.

 

“Real funny.”

 

Tony ignored the comment and walked right up to the security guard, waving his hands in front of the man’s face.

 

“Hey, Henry! Sorry, don’t have my I.D. Don’t have any weapons to check, either. You don’t mind if I just walk on through, do you?” Unsurprisingly, Henry ignored him. “Thanks, man.” Tony waltzed through the metal detector and turned to Tim with a grin. “See? No problems.” Tim just rolled his eyes and followed his partner through the arch.

 

“Now what?”

 

“Well, we could go to our desks, or we could go to Abby’s lab.” A pained look crossed Tim’s face and Tony’s grin faltered. “Our desks, then.”

 

“Fine.” Tim headed for the stairs.

 

“We could take the elevator, you know.”

 

“And how, exactly, are we going to press the call button?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Good point.” Tony followed Tim as he passed through the door to the stairwell and stopped.

 

“What?”

 

“What if we, uh, fall through?”

 

“We haven’t fallen through the floor yet. Although, I admit, I have wondered why that is.”

 

“Yeah, me too. Probably something to do with perspective. We’re used to needing to be standing on something, right?”

 

“Maybe. Guess we won’t know if we’ll fall through stairs until we try, right?” Tony started to walk up the stairs and, to his great relief, they remained solid under his feet.

 

“Huh.” Tim followed him and a few minutes later they passed through another door and walked into the bullpen. Since it was late in the evening, the area was relatively quiet, but they were surprised to find that all of the desks in their section were unoccupied.

 

“I guess they’re still out on a case. Our case.”

 

Tim walked over to his desk and a look of sadness crossed his face. “My computer’s gone.”

 

Tony checked his own desk. “Mine, too. And it looks like someone’s been going through my stuff.”

 

“Mine, too. Do you think what happened to us had something to do with the job?”

 

“No idea. Kinda doubt it, though.” Tony glanced around the area, but it remained quiet. “Maybe we’ll hear something while we’re here. They’ve probably figured it out by now, right?”

 

“Probably,” Tim replied, although his tone indicated that he didn’t have much faith in what he had said.

 

There was nothing up on the plasma, so Tony walked over to Gibbs’ desk and checked the computer monitors. With some surprise he saw that there was nothing there, either. Finally he walked over to Ziva’s desk. “Huh.”

 

“What?”

 

“Looks like she’s been searching state police records.” He read what was visible. “Going back several years.”

 

“Maybe she’s working on a cold case.”

 

“No, they’re records for the area where we…you know. Weird.”

 

Tim shook his head. “There’s nothing about this situation that _isn’t_ weird, Tony.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Tim wandered over to listen to a pair of agents who were deep in conversation, and from his expression Tony could tell it wasn’t a pleasant one. He saw anger suddenly appear on Tim’s face and he turned his full attention to his partner.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Tim shook his head in disgust as he walked back over to his partner. “Apparently we’re being investigated. Someone got it into their head that we had a part in our own disappearance and NCIS has to ‘explore every possibility’.”

 

“That’s…nuts. Wait, ‘disappearance’?”

 

“They haven’t found our bodies.”

 

“Oh, man. That must be where Gibbs and Ziva are, looking for us.”

 

“Officially they’ve called off the search.”

 

Tony took a moment to digest that information. “Well, that’s gratitude for you…but you know Gibbs. He—“

 

“Doesn’t care about ‘officially’. You’re probably right. I wonder what else they found…or didn’t find.”

 

“Well, you know where we can go to find out.”

 

Pain replaced the anger in Tim’s expression. “Yeah…” He sighed. “OK, let’s go.” Tony patted his shoulder and they headed for the stairwell that led to the lower floors.

 

When they reached Abby’s lab, all was quiet. At first Tony thought she had gone home for the evening but then he noticed her hunched over in front of her computer. As he watched, he saw her shoulders shake slightly and the soft sounds of sobbing reached his ears. He swallowed convulsively as he tried to hold back tears of his own.

 

Tim took a few steps forward and raised his hands towards Abby’s shoulders, only to stop a few inches short of actually touching her. Tony saw the slight tremble in Tim’s hands and he stepped up next to his partner where he placed one of his hands on Tim’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze when he felt the man flinch at his touch. Tim lowered his hands and turned towards Tony. After a moment’s hesitation he managed a weak smile and nod of appreciation. They stood together watching and sharing Abby’s grief. Not for themselves but for the anguish their situation was causing their team.

 

“Abby?”

 

All three turned and the two men stepped aside as Abby surged forward to wrap her arms around the newcomer. Ziva returned the hug, but her expression was carefully blank. Once again Tony felt his heart sink. He had seen that expression too many times before.

 

“Did you find anything?” Abby asked when she finally released the other woman.

 

“No, we did not. Gibbs and I searched until nightfall, when the local sheriff called us back in. His men do not like to be out in those woods after dark, and he did not want us out there, either. Gibbs tried to argue, but…there is something about that place that even makes him uncomfortable.” She shuddered slightly but Tony got the impression that she hadn’t even realized she had done it.

 

“Where is Gibbs?”

 

“With the Director. Even though we are not officially working on the case, Vance wants updates. He…he is feeling the loss as well.”

 

A flash of anger crossed Abby’s face. “Then he shouldn’t have called off the search. And he shouldn’t have let anyone think that they wanted to disappear. It’s not right. They’re good agents, they’d never do anything like that! They’d never do that to _us_!”

 

“I know, Abby. I am very sure they did not willingly vanish into slim air.”

 

“Thin air,” both men said in unison, but their correction went unnoticed. Abby’s eyes widened as she focused on Ziva.

 

“You found something?”

 

“I am not sure, but I believe that their disappearance was not…natural.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Ziva seemed to consider how to explain for a few moments before she replied. “I have been searching the local police records, and there have been other strange disappearances in the area over the last fifteen years. I intend to search further back, but most of the older records are not available online.”

 

“How many did you find? Who were they? Does anyone--?” Ziva held up her hand to silence the other woman.

 

“I found three such incidents. The first I found was ten years ago, a man and a woman were known to be traveling through the area and they never made it to their destination. Five years ago, a young male college student told his friends he was going camping in the woods about five miles from where we found Tony and McGee’s car. He never returned home.”

 

“I’ve got it, McGee. I know what happened to us.”

 

“What?”

 

“It was the Blair Witch,” Tony intoned and Tim gave him a dirty look. “Sorry.”

 

“The most recent…before Tony and McGee, was a pair of high school juniors, both young women. Two years ago they called to tell their parents they would be late because their usual route had a detour. There was no detour planned anywhere along their route. They have not been heard from since.”

 

“Oh, crap,” Tony muttered. Tim was watching him with a worried expression in his eyes, but Tony waved him off with an unsure grin. Tony knew he needed to be the strong one right now. It was his responsibility, after all.

 

Abby’s eyes were the size of saucers as she processed what Ziva had said. “What could have happened? Maybe…maybe they were abducted by aliens.”

 

Tim huffed. “I suppose that’s better than the Blair Witch.”

 

Ziva managed a weak smile. “I do not know, Abby. But I am not finished looking.”

 

“None of us are,” Gibbs replied as he walked into the lab. Abby immediately ran to him and he gave her a hug, planting a kiss on the top of her head as she leaned into him.

 

“What did Director Vance say?”

 

“No additional manpower, but the investigation into Tony and McGee has been called off. No evidence to back up the corruption theory.”

 

“Oh, gee, ya think?” muttered Tony. Tim smacked his arm and he turned to the younger man. “What? Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing?” He saw Tim’s rather freaked out expression. “What?”

 

“Look.” Tim pointed at Gibbs and when Tony focused on his Boss, he froze. Gibbs eyes were wide and he was looking towards where the two men stood, but not directly at them.

 

“Gibbs? What’s wrong?” Abby and Ziva were both watching him with concern.

 

“Gibbs? Are you alright?”

 

Gibbs seemed to collect himself and turned to the two women. “Yeah. Fine. You two should go home. Get some rest.”

 

“But--.”

 

“Abbs…”

 

“I won’t be able to sleep, Gibbs. I might as well stay here.”

 

“I should stay as well.”

 

Gibbs sighed. “Don’t make me make it an order. Go.” He kissed Abby’s head again, then leaned over to do the same to Ziva. “You won’t do Tony and McGee any good by working yourselves to…by working too damn hard.”

 

“But…”

 

Gibbs tilted his head and stared at Abby with an expression they had all seen before. Finally Abby nodded. “OK. I’ll go home. I’ll try to sleep. I can do it, for Tony and McGee.” She went to grab her purse and coat and followed Ziva out of the lab. Gibbs remained in place for several moments, his expression indicating he was considering something. Something unpleasant. Suddenly, much to the agents’ surprise, he spoke.

 

“Tony? Tim?”

 

“Boss?” They both replied automatically and Gibbs’ gaze snapped to the place where they were standing, although he still didn’t look them straight in the eye.

 

“You can hear us?” Tim ventured, and Gibbs nodded, almost imperceptibly before his expression changed. A mix of fear and anger crossed his face before he growled in frustration.

 

“Can someone tell me what in the _Hell_ is going on?”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs' first clue that something was weird was when he felt a cold rush of air around him. He shivered and looked around, trying to see if the window was open or a fan was directly on him without alerting Abby to what he was doing. She was so upset that wasn't difficult. Then, he heard a voice. Not Abby's, and not Ziva's.

 

“Oh, gee, ya think?” A very familiar voice replied to his comment, in an extremely familiar tone. That was DiNozzo parroting him again. But it couldn't be. Tony was gone. He gently shooed the girls from the room, then turned around, searching the room for the source of the noise.

 

“Tony, Tim?” He'd heard their voices, and he wanted to be sure he wasn't... no, he _was_ crazy...

He sighed when they responded, the fear and anger building up. His wives, his bosses, Jack, his DI, all had told him at one time or another that his single-minded focus would drive him – or someone else – insane. It appeared to have started.

 

“Boss?” They were speaking together. He was imagining it. There was no way they could...

 

“You can hear us?” That surprised him. That wasn't the way Tim would respond in his mind. He turned toward where the noise was coming from. He was just so tired. He let his anger show, his fear pushing him to respond.

 

“Can somebody tell me what in the _Hell_ is going on?” He crossed his arms across his chest.

 

“Uh, Boss,” Tony stepped up, trying to explain, but he fell silent for a moment, and Gibbs wished he could glare at him to get him to continue. “It's kinda hinky.”

 

“Ya think?” Gibbs knew that whatever this was, hallucination, or waking dream, wasn't going to last. It wasn't healthy, and it wasn't good. “I'm goin' to see Ducky.” He felt stupid speaking to the empty room, but on the tiny sliver of a chance that his boys were there, he wanted them to know. If they _were_ there, they could certainly follow him.

 

“Boss, wait,” Tony started to object, but Tim seemed to stop him. Gibbs could almost imagine the hand he laid on Tony's arm, and the ache in his heart grew.

 

“Come on, Tony, let's just follow him. I knew it wasn't going to be this easy. Why couldn't it have been Abby? She'd at least have believed us.”

 

“Yeah, and exorcised us, McSeethrough.” Tony jibed right back. Gibbs sighed and left the room, turning to go back into autopsy.

 

“Jethro.” Gibbs was glad he'd caught the old ME before he left. He sat down on the stool near where Ducky was inputting reports, and ran a tired hand over his face.

 

“Duck. I'm going insane. Jack, Rogers, Jenny, Stephanie, Diane. All right. I'm goin' insane. I'm hearin' things.”

 

“Now, now, Jethro, it could merely be sleep deprivation.” Ducky moved over and started feeling Jethro's head, counting his pulse. It was an automatic reaction to something like this, and Jethro let him, seriously wondering what was going on. “What are you hearing?”

 

Jethro's voice broke when he spoke. “My boys. I'm hearing the boys. They're talking. I can't see 'em, and they're sounding panicked.”

 

“Anthony and Timothy?” At Jethro's nod, Ducky sighed heartily, his hand settling warm and comforting on his shoulders. “Well, that is a fairly common response to grief, Jethro. However, with the strangeness of their disappearance...” Ducky's voice trailed off, for once not nattering on with a story to fit the situation. Maybe there wasn't one.

 

“You tellin' me I'm really hearin' 'em?” Gibbs was surprised at that. He knew that the man had some esoteric ideas at times, but this just didn't seem like it made sense.

 

“I am saying, my dear boy, that you are an investigator. If you must, test your theory. There must be some information that you could get from these apparitions, if they are truly there, that you couldn't get by any other means.” Ducky waved his hand, brushing off the glare that Gibbs almost subconsciously sent his way. “Their deaths were unable to be explained, and there were a lot of _strange_ happenings surrounding the event. I am merely suggesting that this may be one more in a series.”

 

“Okay, Duck. But _after_ I get some sleep.” Gibbs snorted. The doctor was right. He was very tired.

 

“Naturally, Jethro. If they are around, and are in non-corporeal form, there is usually a geas on them. They will remain until their jobs are completed.”

 

“Did you hear that, Probie,” one of the voices spoke, and he instinctively turned his head toward it, glare renewed. “We're doing this until our job's finished. If that's solving crimes, we'll be here forever.”

 

“Tony,” Tim whined, and Gibbs' lips thinned at the voice. “Don't think like that. It's weird enough dealing with the whole _dead_ thing.”

 

“They are here in the room, then, Jethro?” Ducky looked toward where Gibbs' eyes were focused and stood to move toward them. He stuck out a hand, and tilted his head. “I cannot see or feel or hear anything different. Strange. If they are here, then they ought to tell me where I stand in relation to them.” His volume didn't change, but his timbre changed to what it used to be when he was scolding them for being idiots. Gibbs' breath caught again.

 

“If we were skin stuff, Boss,” Tony spoke again, “he'd be giving us a good karate chop.”

 

“They're right there, Duck. DiNozzo says you'd be giving them a karate chop.”

 

“Well.” Ducky looked nonplussed, his eyes showing his confusion. “I have never … I have heard stories of _others_ experiencing this phenomenon, but never myself or someone in my hearing.

 

“Great.” Now, Gibbs' sarcasm sounded like Tony's.

 

“Jethro.” Ducky looked over his glasses at him, and sighed. “Go home, go to sleep. If they still speak to you in the morning, then perhaps converse with them and set up a test. Have them retrieve information that you did not know before, and is easily provable.”

 

“Yeah, alright.” He gestured toward the door. “C'mon. If you're comin’, it'd be easier to hitch a ride.” He sounded so bitter, even to himself. _And you're surprised at this, Gunny?_ Not at all.

 

“On your six, Boss,” Tony replied automatically, and Gibbs had to blink his eyes to prevent a tear from falling.

 

“Yes, Boss,” Tim's overlapping agreement made his self-control that much harder.

 

“Both of you idiots can sit in the back. I don't wanna break up an argument between ya in front of everybody else.”

 

“Fair enough,” Tim spoke over Tony's protests.

 

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs barked, and they all fell silent. “C'mon.”

 

He walked out to the car at his normal pace, the men hopefully behind him. Well, he wasn't sure which he hoped. He hoped they were still alive, but he knew better than to believe that. “Should have a service.” He muttered this more to himself than to anyone else, but of course, his agents caught it.

 

“Wouldn't they need proof of death for that?” Tony asked, behind him and slightly to the right, as he'd always been.

 

“Not necessarily,” Tim replied. “If we're gone long enough, and if Gibbs gives them the go ahead, they could declare us dead and do it. I'm just not sure what that'd do to our situation.”

 

“You think that'd affect your thingamajig?” Gibbs spoke quietly, ignoring the looks of the people around him as he got into the Challenger. “Tell me when you're in, because I can't see you.”

 

“Yes, Boss,” Tim replied. “Um, I don't know. I don't know that much about how the geas works, or even if that's what's going on. I mean, in sci-fi, they've got situations where people are just out of phase, but … Tony ...” Tim's voice fell silent.

 

“I remember Tim dying, Boss.” Tony's voice was soft, hard to hear, and full of grief. “I saw him... I don't know what happened exactly, or who killed us, or if it was a _what_ instead of a who.” He sighed, and Gibbs could just imagine the man scratching at his nose, or playing with his buttons. “We're in, by the way, Boss.” Gibbs started up the engine, buckled himself in, and drove out of the parking lot in the same way he'd always done: fast and a little wild, like he had to get home as fast as possible.

 

“The more things change,” Tim sounded wry, and it got a wet laugh from their Boss. “Boss, you okay?”

 

“No, I am _damn well not okay,_ McGee, I've lost two of my best agents ever, and if you're telling the truth and not just hallucinations, then I won't get them back at all.” They'd become another two names on his list of people he'd failed.

 

“Boss, it's my fault.” Tony sounded like he'd tried to say this crap before, but Gibbs wasn't having it.

 

“Did you kill McGee, DiNozzo?” He almost turned around to look in the backseat, but then realized that it didn't matter, because their bodies weren't there.

 

“No, Boss, but I...”

 

Gibbs cut him off. “Did you mouth off to a dirtbag and make him madder so that _he_ killed McGee?”

 

“No Boss.” Tony sounded more resigned, and Gibbs thought maybe he'd gotten through to him.

 

“Then cut the crap.” That was all he could say. He swerved around a slow car who honked at him. He growled slightly, and sped up a little more.

 

“Yes, Boss.” Tony grinned. “Maybe we're not dead at all.”

 

“Uh, Tony, you just said...” Tim sounded confused, and Gibbs was a little confused himself.

 

“Maybe we're just resting. Or stunned. Pining for the fjords. No, you're right. We're stiffs. Bereft of life. Resting in peace. Off the twig.”

 

“DiNozzo...” Gibbs growled. “Can't headslap you...”

 

McGee piped up. “I can, Boss.” There was a loud smack and Tony shut up.

 

Except for the normal “Ow. Yes, Boss, thank you Boss.” Gibbs had to suppress a smile at the glare he knew Tony was giving Tim.

 

“Better.” They were finally at the house, and he could rest. “I'm going to sleep. You two do whatever you do at night. Don't haunt me while I'm sleepin', or I'm liable to shoot a hole in the wall again. Might not hit you, but it'd make me cranky.”

 

“And even when you can't touch me, I get headslapped when you're cranky.” Tony sounded mildly amused. “Gotcha, Boss. C'mon, Tim.”

 

“Coming. Goodnight, Gibbs.”

 

Gibbs grunted, and went up to his room to change, then back downstairs to grab a beer. He was too tired to even go downstairs tonight, so he sat down on the couch, sipping at his beer for a while, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally making their appearance. Silently, alone, he mourned the loss of his men. Shortly after finishing his beer, he laid down and fell asleep.

 

The next morning, he went about his morning routine with a heavy heart. He was sure the whole thing was a dream, or wishful thinking. He'd love to hear his boys again, but never would. He knew that now. He went out to the car, ready to drive to Elaine's to get breakfast and a cup of coffee, and then he heard it.

 

“You going somewhere, Boss?” Tony sounded very close to him. “You missed a spot shaving, Boss. You must've been doing it on autopilot again.”

 

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “Well, C'mon.” He gestured toward the door and strode out. “Tryin' t' think of somethin' to have you do.” He scratched at the side of his jaw, and sure enough, he had missed a tiny patch of skin. It wasn't enough to show too badly, at least as an agent, but it was going to bother him all day, or until he could shave it.

 

“Well, I mean, you don't look like Ona Mae. Whoopi's black, and well female, and I'm definitely not Patrick Swayze, but I don't have a Demi Moore here for you to talk to either, so we're good on that front.” Tony rattled on, and Gibbs just turned and glared, then turned back around when he realized how futile it was. He started up the car and returned to work.

 

“What, Boss? Good movie. _Ghost_. Demi Moore, and Patrick Swayze...” He started to describe it, and Gibbs growled.

 

“McGee?” He asked, peremptorily.

 

“On it, Boss,” and there was the sound of another whack to the back of Tony's head.

 

“How is it that I get all the headslaps, and McSmacker gets none?”

 

“You need 'em more, DiNozzo. When he needs one, you can return the favor.” He sighed, still uncertain he wasn't going crazy. Tony didn't respond, accepting Gibbs' words for law.

 

When they arrived at the Navy Yard, Gibbs pulled into his parking space and strode up to the door. As he entered, one of the security guards caught his attention. “Agent Gibbs, the Director said to have you come immediately up to his office.”

 

Behind him, Tony jibed, “do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

 

Gibbs thanked the man, and then as soon as he was in the elevator, he sighed. “McGee.”

 

“On it, Boss,” McGee repeated, slapping Tony again.

 

“Sorry, Boss. It's just too tempting.” Tony sounded contrite, at least a little.

 

Gibbs allowed himself a bit of a chuckle, and he could hear the indrawn breath of the two … men in the elevator with him. He stepped out onto the floor, dropped his gun and badge into the drawer, nodded at Ziva and headed straight up the stairs. “Goin' to see Vance.”

 

Ziva nodded, and he acknowledged it, and kept going. He stepped into the man's office, and blinked. Admiral McGee and Senior were standing there, arms across their chests, staring at each other. The director didn't look too happy either. _Fun._ This wasn't how he'd envisioned this going at all.

 

“Seems to be the problem, Leon?” Vance looked over at him, and the two fathers did too.

 

“It appears there is a bit of a disagreement as to the final wishes of the two men. We were hoping you could clear it up.”

 

“Do my best.” Normally, he'd say that he didn't care, but with the two men in the room with him, he could just relay their wishes.

 

Leon looked slightly surprised at his acquiescence, but barreled on. “It seems that if they were killed in the line of duty together, DiNozzo wanted to share at least some of the service with the other agent. Admiral McGee doesn't feel that's appropriate.”

 

Gibbs frowned, wondering why it wouldn't be. The two men had served together, and it wasn't unheard of for there to at least be some acknowledgment of their shared service. He waited to hear what his apparitions would say.

 

“It's a cop thing, Boss. If we get hurt together, it gives the team and the force a chance to mourn us together. But if Tim'd rather do something else, I'm good. I mean...”

 

“McGee.” There was the snap of another slap, and Tony's groan. Unfortunately, that meant that the Admiral was looking at him in surprise.

 

“Uh, Gibbs, I kind of would rather do it that way, too, actually. And I told my Dad so.” Tim sighed. “He wants to have a family service. He can have a family memorial after.”

 

“Tim said he'd told you that he'd rather have it the same way, and then have a family memorial afterward. Don't see what the problem is. It's a law enforcement thing. It's like sharing a memorial service for the deaths in a single unit.” He glared at the old man, then saw the acquiescence.

 

“Yes, you're right. Timothy did say that.” He sighed. “Then, that's what we'll do. Very well. If you'll organize the joint portions, we'll have the graveside services separate.”

 

“That will work admirably. My condolences, gentlemen.” Vance included Gibbs in his words, and Gibbs felt a touch of surprise.

 

“Thank you.” The admiral straightened his uniform and moved to the door. “DiNozzo, Director, Gibbs... I have to get going. I have things to prepare.”

 

“Admiral.” Gibbs stood straight, and only just avoided saluting the man. Instead he tipped his head. The admiral acknowledged it, and left.

 

“I, uh... I better get going, too. I have to take Junior's things and put them ...” Senior looked lost.

 

“I put my will in my safe deposit box. The key's taped to the backside of the microwave in my apartment.” Tony sounded resigned and sad.

 

“He put his will in his safe deposit box. Key's on the back of the microwave in his apartment. Here...” Gibbs fished into his pocket and took Tony's key off the ring. There was a sense of finality about it that made him shake his head again. Tony rattled off the name of the bank, and he relayed it to him. Vance looked at him a little suspiciously, but Gibbs glared right back, and he left it alone. Shortly thereafter, Gibbs left the office to go start his day.

 

As he did, he realized that talking to their fathers proved one thing: the voices he was hearing were not hallucinations. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

 

“C'mon you two. Workin' a case. If you can help, go ahead.” He sat down, powered up his computer, and began working.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Ever since he had become aware of his situation, Tim had clung to the small hope that it really was all just some bizarre dream. The events of the past twelve hours, however, had caused reality to sink in. And what a strange reality it was. He was dead, yet still walking around, invisible to all but Tony and apparently inaudible to all but Tony and Gibbs – who may or may not have started to believe he and Tony were real. He could pass through solid objects, except where he needed to walk, stand, or (as evident from his ride in Gibbs’ car the night before) sit. By the time he had witnessed his father discussing his and Tony’s pending memorial service, he didn’t think anything else could surprise him. That was, until he heard Gibbs’ proclamation as the three of them returned to the bullpen.

 

"C'mon you two. Workin' a case. If you can help, go ahead."

 

Tim watched in shock as Gibbs returned to his desk and started to work. Before he could voice his confusion, Tony beat him to it.

 

“How are we supposed to do that, Boss?”

 

Gibbs turned in the direction of Tony’s voice, obviously wanting to answer, but he glanced across the bullpen at Ziva and remained silent.

 

“Right, of course, you can’t talk to us without someone questioning your sanity.” Gibbs expression told Tim that Tony had hit the nail on the head.

 

“You know, Boss, you could open up a word document and type your responses, that is if you don’t mind us reading over your shoulder.”

 

In response, Gibbs opened a file but did not get a chance to type a reply before Ziva walked over to his desk to confront him.

 

“What did the Director want? Has he obtained any information about…?”

 

“No. Senior and the Admiral were arguing over a memorial service. The Admiral wanted separate services, but DiNozzo had told Vance that he wanted to share his service with McGee, if they died together.”

 

“Memorial service?” A flash of anger crossed her face. “They have given up on them?”

 

“Ziva…”

 

“ _You_ have given up on them?”

 

Gibbs sighed. “We would have found something, heard something by now. If they were still alive.”

 

“What happened? Yesterday you were not ready to stop looking. What had occurred to make you give up?”

 

Gibbs just shook his head. “Nothing we can do now.” He looked up at her. “You and Abby can start working on the service, getting things together.”

 

“I do not _want_ to work on a service for them. I want to find them!”

 

“Agent David.” They all turned to see Vance approaching, a stack of folders in his hands. “Take a break.”

 

“Director, I—“

 

“That was an order, Agent David.”

 

She shot both men an incredulous look which morphed into fury as she spun on one heel and headed for the elevator. They watched her leave and when the doors closed, Vance returned his attention to Gibbs.

 

“You want to tell me what’s going on, Gibbs? You’ve suddenly become way too accepting of your agents’ deaths.” Gibbs just stared at Vance. Several moments passed in the silent battle of wills before Vance dropped the stack of folders on Gibbs’ desk. “Here’s a group of potential replacements for DiNozzo and McGee. I expect a decision by the end of this week.”

 

“They’re not replaceable, Leon.”

 

“I’m not going to argue that point, Gibbs, but you can’t run a MCRT with only one other agent. Unless, of course, you’d like to be stuck on cold cases until you retire.”

 

Gibbs glare held little of its normal strength. “Anything else?”

 

“I’ll be sending someone to deal with their personal effects. Their desks need to be cleaned out by the end of the day.”

 

Tim got the sense that Vance was purposefully being a hard-ass in order to get Gibbs to respond, to tell him what was going through the lead agent’s head, but his tactic didn’t seem to be working.

 

“I’ll handle it, Leon.” He rose from his seat. “I’ll need some boxes.”

 

“I’ll have some brought up.”

 

“Appreciate it. I’m going for coffee.”

 

“Gibbs.” He turned to face Vance. “DiNozzo and McGee were good agents, and good men. You’re not the only once feeling their loss.”

 

“Yeah, I know, Leon.”

 

“I’m wondering _how_ you know, Gibbs. How do you know they’re really gone? Because I’m getting the sense that you _do_ know. And don’t tell me it’s one of your famous gut feelings.”

 

“Alright. I won’t. Is there anything else, Director?”

 

“Your team will need to speak with an agency psychiatrist before you return to the field. To deal with the grief.

 

“I’d rather just talk to Ducky.”

 

“ _All_ of your team, Gibbs. Is that clear?”

 

“Crystal.”

 

Vance watched Gibbs for a moment before he turned and headed back up to his office.

 

“Guess I should talk to Ducky,” Gibbs muttered and started towards the elevator. Tim and Tony glanced at each other and followed. Once they were in the elevator and the doors closed, Tony spoke.

 

“You OK, Boss?”

 

“Stupid question, DiNozzo,” Gibbs growled and Tony looked suitably abashed.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“What now, Boss?” Tim asked.

 

“Guess we better figure out how to deal with your thingamajig.”

 

“The geas? You think Ducky will know more?”

 

“Hope so, McGee.”

 

“You trying to get rid of us already, Boss?”

 

Gibbs glared in Tony’s direction. “Don’t want you two to be suffering.”

 

“We’re not, Boss. Not really. I mean, yeah, it sucks that we can’t do much now, but…” 

 

“It could have been worse. At least we have someone to talk to. Besides each other.”

 

“So you haven’t…” An odd expression crossed Gibbs’ face. “There aren’t any others here, like you?”

 

Tim glanced at Tony, who shook his head. “Not that we’ve noticed.” He thought he saw relief in Gibbs’ expression. 

 

“So I take it you believe us, now? You don’t think you’re crazy anymore, right?”

 

“Jury’s still out on that one.” The elevator doors opened and they followed Gibbs into Autopsy. Ducky and Palmer were doing paperwork, and Tim was startled by how bad Palmer looked. The M.E.’s assistant, usually way too perky for someone who worked in a morgue, looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days.

 

“Need to talk, Duck.”

 

“Of course. Mr. Palmer?”

 

“I’ll go…do something.” He turned and walked out, his gaze directed at the floor.

 

“He OK?” Gibbs asked when Jimmy was out of earshot.

 

“This whole situation with Anthony and Timothy has been very upsetting for him. He’s lost two of his contemporaries, and it is hitting him hard.”

 

Gibbs merely nodded and glanced towards the doors. “Need privacy for this one.”

 

“Of course.” Ducky locked the doors and turned on the biohazard warning lights. “I take it this has to do with our conversation last night.”

 

“They passed the test, Duck. Told me stuff I didn’t know otherwise. Their fathers confirmed it.”

 

Ducky’s eyes widened. “They’re really here? With us now?”

 

“Tony? McGee? You with me?”

 

“We’re here, Boss.”

 

“They’re here.”

 

Ducky was surprisingly silent as he first stared at Gibbs then glanced around the room.

 

“Need more proof, Duck?”

 

“I…I suppose I should do a test myself, but… I have it.” He turned and wrote something on a piece of paper, out of Gibbs line of vision. “If you could, have one of them tell you what this says.”

 

“Go on, McGee. Read it off to me.”

 

McGee walked over and stared at the paper. The phrase was in Latin, and it took him a moment to recognize it. 

 

“ _Contra vim mortis non crescit herba in hortis_ _._ It’s Latin for ‘no herb grows in the gardens against the power of death’.

 

“McGee says it’s Latin. ‘No herb grows against the power of death’ or something like that.”

 

Ducky dropped his pen and stared up at where Tim was standing. “Timothy?”

 

Tim managed a smile. “Good to see you, Ducky.”

 

“He says he’s glad to see you.”

 

Ducky looked towards Gibbs. “And Anthony?”

 

“Standing right next to you, Boss. On your left.”

 

“He’s standing to my left.”

 

“Oh my…” Ducky went to his desk and collapsed into his chair. “What happened to you?”

 

“They don’t know. Tony said McGee…he was killed first, but they didn’t see who did it.”

 

“Or what,” Tony added.

 

“Or what.”

 

“Oh, lads…I am so sorry.”

 

“Pretty sure this wasn’t your fault, Ducky.”

 

“Tony says it’s not your fault.”

 

“Boss, ask him about the geas.”

 

“Tim wants to know about the thing you mentioned yesterday that’s keeping them here.”

 

Ducky took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before putting his glasses back on. “I’m afraid there’s not too much I can tell you. It’s my understanding that those spirits who linger do so because they have some sort of obligation or task to fulfill. A geas is also an obligation magically imposed. Considering the strangeness of their disappearance…and apparent demise, either could be at work here, or perhaps none at all.”

 

“Told ya it was the Blair Witch, Probie.” Tony grinned and Tim just rolled his eyes.

 

“McGee…”

 

“On it, Boss.” He walked over and head-slapped Tony, who gave him a dirty look.

 

“I think you’re enjoying those way too much, McWhack.” Tim smirked, but became serious again when he saw the look Gibbs was sending in their general direction.

 

“Do you think finding out what happened would take care of that?” Gibbs asked as he returned his attention to Ducky.

 

“Perhaps. But I must confess, Jethro, this if far beyond anything in my experience.”

 

“Way above my pay grade, too.”

 

They sat in silence for several minutes, pondering the fate of the two younger men. 

 

“Am I…are we keeping them here?”

 

Startled, all three men turned their attention to Gibbs. “What do you mean, Jethro?”

 

“Do we need to let them go? Do all of us need…?”

 

“Closure? It’s possible.”

 

“Gotta wonder how they’re going to have a ‘graveside service’ with no bodies, though,” Tony remarked.

 

“It’d be an empty grave, Tony, but they could still have one. People lost at sea still have graves and grave markers. You know it’s more for the people left behind than for the one who died.”

 

“I guess that’s true. You know, I’ve always wanted to see my own funeral.”

 

“Somehow that does not surprise me.” Tim caught the look Gibbs was sending them. “Sorry, Boss. If you think that will work…”

 

“They don’t have a problem with it, Duck. I asked Ziva to start workin’ on the arrangements with Abby.”

 

“Yes, and I’m sure that went over well,” Ducky remarked dryly. “But if it will put these two to rest…”

 

“Not sure I want to rest,” Tony muttered. “Wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

 

Tim felt a twinge of worry. What awaited them after they left this…existence? He wasn’t sure he really wanted to think about that.

 

“Don’t think you want to hang out here forever either, Tony.”

 

“Could be worse…”

 

“We’re not even sure it will work,” Tim added, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. 

 

“Guess we won’t know until we try. Thanks for the help, Duck.”

 

“Of course. And please,” he glanced around the room, “accept my condolences. It simply won’t be the same, not seeing you two here every day. I will miss you.”

 

“We’ll miss you, too, Ducky,” the said in unison and a small, sad smile appeared on Gibbs’ face. 

 

“They said they’ll miss you, too.”

 

Ducky just nodded as he removed his glasses again, passing his hand over his eyes to rub away the moisture that had started to accumulate. Gibbs stepped forward and put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. After a few more moments of silence, Ducky rose from his chair and walked over to the door to unlock it as he turned off the alarm. Gibbs passed through the doors as they opened and walked to the elevator with his agents following along behind.

 

The rest of the day passed with agonizing slowness. Ziva was obviously still mad at Gibbs and maintained a stony silence until she left for the evening. When Gibbs went down to the lab to check on her progress with the evidence review from a set of cold cases, Abby berated him for giving up on his two agents so easily. Her ranting ended after Gibbs simply pulled her into his arms and let her cry on his shoulder. In the end, she agreed to put together a service to properly honor her two fallen teammates, and promised to bring Ziva into the project as well. Gibbs returned to his desk, but Tim could see something had changed. The lead agent wore an expression that Tim had seen many times in the past: he was focused on bringing someone down.

 

At the end of the day, Tim and Tony followed Gibbs out to his car and passed through the doors to take their place on the back seat. Gibbs remained silent for the entire trip, ignoring Tony’s commentary as they drove through the streets of D.C. into Virginia. When they reached Gibbs’ house, he went inside without saying a word. The two men followed him into the house and down into the basement, where they found him removing his sniper rifle from its drawer. Tim felt a surge of fear when he realized what Gibbs intended to do.

 

“Boss, no,” Tony exclaimed, obviously coming to the same conclusion. “You’re not going after…whatever it is.”

 

“Gonna stop me, DiNozzo?”

 

For a moment, Tim thought Tony was actually going to try and physically restrain Gibbs but instead he lowered his voice to a not-quite-pleading tone.

 

“Boss, whatever it was, it was silent and fast. It took down both of us in the blink of an eye and we never saw it coming. I know you’re good, Boss, but this…I don’t think even you can stop it.”

 

“You two can watch my six.”

 

“Yeah, watch. That’s all we’ll be able to do!”

 

Gibbs remained silent, still holding the rifle, but Tim could see he was at least listening. He decided to try another argument.

 

“What if it gets you, Boss? What will that do to Abby? Or Ziva? Or Ducky? They’ve already lost us and look at how they’re handling it. Do you really want to make them go through that with you, too?”

 

Tim waited for explosion that was sure to come, but Gibbs just stood there. Tony also remained in place, staring into the eyes of the man who meant the world to both of them and couldn’t even see the agent now staring him down. Finally Gibbs turned away to face his work bench.

 

“Damn it!” He slammed a fist onto the top of the bench and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

 

“Boss?” Tim ventured, “Are you—“

 

“No, I am _not_ OK, McGee.” He turned and put the rifle back in the drawer before slamming it shut, then grabbed a jar along with the bottle of bourbon from the shelf and poured a healthy portion into the jar. He stared at it for a brief moment before downing the entire contents in one gulp.

 

“Uh, Boss, maybe you should…” Tony looked like he wanted to grab the bottle to keep Gibbs from drinking the whole thing.

 

Gibbs slammed the jar on the bench and took a deep breath. “Goin’ to bed.” He started up the stairs and paused. “Still want to find out what happened to you two.”

 

“I know, Boss. If anyone can figure it out, you can.” Tony laughed, weakly. “But in the daytime, and with lots of back-up, OK?”

 

A sad smile crossed Gibbs’ face as he gave a jerky sort of nod and continued on up the stairs.

 

After Gibbs was out of sight, Tony turned to Tim.

 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” he said in a low voice. “I’m still not sure he won’t try something stupid.”

 

Tim just nodded and watched his partner head up the stairs. It was the first time he had been alone since he had woken up in that forest and he had to admit it made him a bit uneasy. To overcome his anxiety, Tim focused on what he could do to actually help Gibbs, if the need arose. 

 

He stepped up to the workbench, where the jar still sat (now slightly cracked) and he focused on the jar itself. He reached out a hand and tried to touch it, but as expected his fingers passed right through. He sighed and pulled his hand away, and then stood back to think. He could stand on a floor and walk up stairs. He could phase though a car door yet sit on a seat. Why were those things there for him and this wasn’t? He looked down at the floor where his feet stood firmly planted on the solid surface. What had he told Tony? Perspective. He needed to stand somewhere. He needed to sit somewhere. Why didn’t he need to hold something?

 

He considered the bench top. Would it hold him, or would he sink through? Finally he decided to test it. He turned around, placed his hands where he expected the table to be, and closed his eyes as he tried to lever himself up onto the bench. To his utter surprise, it worked. He could feel the rough wood under his hands and the solid seat upon which he was now sitting. With a triumphant grin, he hopped back down and turned to face the bench again. Tim reached for the jar, closed his eyes, and felt the cool surface under his fingers. Now, the big question: Could he move it? He focused on feeling the glass, making it real to him, and then quickly gave it a shove. It toppled over with a small tinkling sound as the glass hit the wood.

 

“Yes!”

 

He tried again, and again, finally managing to pick up the jar and move it several inches. Continued practice allowed him to hold it, toss it from one hand to the other, and eventually move it to the other side of the room. From there, he tried other objects, and soon found that he could move, with enough concentration, anything he wanted. 

 

The next morning, when Tony came down to get him, Tim turned to the other man with a smirk.

 

“Catch.” He tossed a small block of wood to Tony, who caught it without thinking and then looked at Tim, eyes wide with shock. He dropped it almost immediately but for a moment he had held the block in his hands.

 

“How?” Tony managed to ask, and Tim grinned.

 

“Perspective.”

 

XXX

 

Five days after Tony and Tim had made contact with Gibbs, the two of them were standing outside a church, watching the people file in to attend the memorial service that had been planned for them. Tony pointed out people he knew but hadn’t expected to show, while Tim did the same, admittedly with much less enthusiasm. He knew the point of this whole thing was to allow closure, both for their family and friends, and possibly so he and Tony could ‘move on’. He still wasn’t thrilled with that idea, especially since he had no idea to where exactly they would be moving.

 

Tim watched his family, including (much to his surprise) the Admiral walk through the doors and felt a strange ache in his chest when he saw the state they were in, especially Sarah. He saw his pain mirrored in Tony’s expression when he watched Senior slowly make his way to the building, looking much older and weary than the polished and well-connected businessman Tim remembered from previous encounters. 

 

At the appointed start time, Tony and Tim moved into the building and stood in the back to view the service. They had said their goodbyes to Gibbs earlier, in case the service did remove the geas, and now all they could do was watch and wait.

 

It was a nice service, Tim had to admit. Abby and Ziva had done a good job at arranging speakers, music, and messages about their fallen teammates. Tony commented in a whisper that maybe it would have been nice to hear _some_ of what was being said while they were alive to appreciate it. He knew it was Tony’s way of dealing with his own grief, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to reply, even though he, to some extent, had to agree. 

 

After the final message was read and the final song played, the mourners began to file out again. Tony and Tim slipped out and watched the group depart, while Tim wondered how they would know if they had been released from their ‘obligation’. He didn’t feel any different, that was certain.

 

“So when do you think…?” Tony asked, hesitantly.

 

“No idea, honestly.”

 

“I don’t see any bright light for us to go into, McCarolAnn, that’s for sure.”

 

Tim just rolled his eyes. “Good to know some things will never change.”

 

They wandered around outside until they finally saw their team leave the church. Abby and Ziva both gave Gibbs and Ducky a hug, and Palmer accepted a pat on the shoulder from both men. The three younger members climbed into Abby’s roadster and drove off, and after a brief conversation with Ducky, the two older men exchanged a brief hug before parting. Ducky climbed into his Morgan and drove off, while Gibbs started walking towards the cemetery adjoining the church. Tony and Tim followed him until he stopped in front of a large memorial which honored those lost in the line of duty.

 

“Gibbs!”

 

All three turned and saw Vance approaching. 

 

“What do you need, Leon?”

 

“Just checking on you. How are you holding up?”

 

“I’ll manage. It was a good service.” Gibbs paused, almost as if he were debating what to say, wondering who might be listening. “Was what we needed, I think.”

 

“Good to hear,” Vance replied, although his tone indicated he doubted Gibbs’ sincerity. “I contacted the agents you chose to replace…to join your team. They’ll be in D.C. next week to get settled in. Interesting choices, if I may say so.” Gibbs merely nodded. “Where are you headed now?”

 

“Home. Got a few things to do before tomorrow.”

 

“Of course. Once again, let me offer my condolences, Gibbs. DiNozzo and McGee will be missed.” Gibbs said nothing. “OK. I need to get home as well.” He placed a hand on Gibbs’ shoulder for a brief moment before turning and walking to his car. Gibbs watched him leave and after the car was out of sight, he turned back to the memorial.

 

“Tony? Tim?” He asked, almost hesitantly.

 

“Still here, Boss. Guess that wasn’t the solution we needed after all,” Tim replied unable to keep the relief out of his voice. 

 

Gibbs sighed, and Tim suspected he was relieved as well. “Now what?”

 

“I suppose we’ll wing it. Gotta figure it out eventually, right?” Tony replied with forced cheerfulness. “I mean, if we really don’t belong here, that is. We’ll find some way to leave.

 

“Right. Come on, then. Let’s get out of here.” They followed Gibbs to his car, climbed in, and sat in silence as Gibbs drove away from the church, pondering just what the future might have in store for them.

 

XXX

 

Tim stood next to Gibbs and Tony in Observation, watching the two new agents interview a suspect in the MCRT’s most recent case. The suspect, a young Petty Officer who was believed to be involved in a drug smuggling operation, sat quietly next to his lawyer as they listened to the case against him. Special Agent Rayna Fontaine, who had been transferred from the New Orleans Office was conducting the interview. Agent Fontaine was very adept at luring an interviewee into a false sense of superiority, using their own prejudices to make them believe that this middle-aged, dark-skinned, southern female was an easy match. That is, until she was ready to play her trump card, and then the easy-going simpleton was replaced with a street-smart hard-assed ex-Army sniper-turned-federal-agent with her intended target firmly in her crosshairs. Tim had a very good idea why Gibbs had chosen her for his team.

 

While she was laying out the case, Wendell Martin (whom Tony had nicknamed “Wendy”, mainly to annoy Tim) was providing the electronic trail of evidence against the suspect. Martin was still pretty green, almost as green as Tim had been when he started with the team, but he also had more of a backbone than most people would suspect at first glance. He played by the rules, always making sure the proper warrants and documentation were in place, which meant he was slower than Tim at retrieving information. Gibbs had harangued the young man but he had stood firm, informing the lead agent that while ‘fruit of the poisoned tree’ may be faster, it did them no good in the long run when the case went to court. Gibbs had simply stared at the new agent for several moments before cracking a smile and turning away, telling the younger man to move faster and make the wait worth it.

 

“Something is not right,” Ziva commented from her spot on the other side of Gibbs. “Petty Officer Monroe is far too calm. His lawyer looks too smug. He knows something.”

 

“Can’t go after Richardson without more proof, Ziva. Vance was very clear on that.”

 

“Looks like the boy wonder has something,” Tony commented and pointed towards the room where Martin was explaining something to the suspect, who now looked quite worried. The lawyer, Richardson, broke in and told Monroe not to respond, and that he would be looking into how Martin had obtained that information. Martin assured him it was properly retrieved. Richardson then gave some rambling statement full of legalese that set Tim’s teeth on edge. Finally, after a few more exchanges with Fontaine, Richardson declared that the interview was over and that any more attempts to ‘harass’ his client would result in sanctions against the agents. 

 

Tim watched them leave and, after a strange sensation began to make itself known in his stomach, he decided to follow them. Tony had started to follow Gibbs and the rest of the team back to the bullpen, so Tim trailed behind a little, hoping Tony wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want the older man to mock him if he was wrong in his interpretation of that feeling. 

 

Once the group was out of sight, Tim doubled back and caught the pair just as they were stepping into the elevator. He moved to the back and listened to their conversation.

 

“What do we do? They seem like they’re—“

 

“Not another word. We don’t know if we’re under observation here or not.” Tim snorted softly to himself. Of all the times Gibbs had used this elevator as a conference room, he doubted it was bugged. Of course, there was no way to tell these two that.

 

Tim followed the pair to their car and carefully slipped into the back seat. Richardson checked the car over carefully for listening or tracking devices, Tim soon realized, before climbing into the driver’s seat. 

 

“I’ll drop you off at base. I don’t want to see you at the warehouse at any time for the next week. Understood?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Good.”

 

The rest of the ride to Pax River was silent, and Tim wondered if he had made a big mistake. Was he going to be stuck down in southern Maryland and forced to walk back to the Navy Yard? Would he actually learn anything of use, or was this a colossal waste of time?

 

After Richardson had dropped Monroe off at the base, he drove down the main highway for a few miles before turning onto one of the less traveled roads that would take him back towards D.C. Tim watched and waited, hoping he would at least be closer to home before he got stuck. Finally, a few miles from the border between Maryland and D.C., Richardson turned off the road onto a gravel driveway that led to a group of old, run-down warehouses that looked like they hadn’t been used in years. Tim took careful note of the name of the complex and the address posted on the outside of the gate in faded, weather-beaten lettering. 

 

Richardson pulled his car into a space between two of the warehouses and stopped. He climbed out and walked to the door of the smaller warehouse, where he stopped and gave two sharp raps to the rusted metal. After a few moments, the door opened and Richardson stepped inside. Tim passed through the door as it closed and stopped at the sight in front of them. 

 

He had found the base for the drug smuggling ring.

 

The man who had let Richardson in was glaring at the lawyer with contempt.

 

“You get the kid out of trouble?”

 

“Not yet. NCIS is better than we suspected. Looks like we might want to cool off for awhile.”

 

The man snorted. “Looks like _you_ might want to _shove_ off for awhile. We don’t want those Navy cops nosing around. Go back to your digs in Georgetown. We’ll be fine without you.”

 

“As long as you don’t forget who’s in charge,” Richardson snapped. “I’ll let you know when the heat is off of Monroe.”

 

“You do that. Shouldn’t have brought that dumb squid in on this in the first place.”

 

“Lessons learned. I’ll take care of it. No shipments in or out tonight, though. We don’t want to raise suspicion.”

 

“You’re the boss,” the man replied with a sneer.

 

Richardson stepped into the man’s personal space, and Tim was surprised to see the man wilt slightly. “Don’t you forget it, or you’ll be joining Monroe when I’m done with him. Clear?”

 

“Clear.”

 

“Good.” Richardson turned and moved towards the exit. After a brief hesitation, Tim followed. He tried to commit as much of the layout to memory so he could relay the information to Gibbs later.

 

Tim slipped back into the car as Richardson backed out of the space between the buildings and drove off with a screech of tires against the gravel. Soon they were back out on the main road, headed for D.C. Forty-five minutes later they pulled up in front of a row of town houses that had been converted to offices. Richardson climbed out of the car and headed for the front door of the nearest building, while Tim tried to decide on the best way to get back to the Yard. After getting his bearings, he headed for the closest Metro station, hoping that getting on the trains would prove to be no more of a problem than riding in a car.

 

An hour later, he emerged from the M-street station and dashed towards the Yard, weaving his way through the late-afternoon crowds (he hated the sensation of someone walking through him, so he tried to avoid it whenever possible). Finally he reached the building that housed NCIS and ran through the security checkpoint to the stairs, which he took two at a time to reach the floor for the bullpen. As he emerged from the stairwell, he heard Tony’s voice ring out in anger.

 

“McGee! Where in the Hell have you been?”

 

Tim saw Gibbs flinch and look up in his direction, worry and anger vying for dominance in his expression.

 

“Sorry. Sorry, Boss. I had a feeling that the lawyer was bad news, and I was right! I got in his car and he took me to the warehouse where the smuggling operation is based. We’ve got him, Boss!”

 

“Where?” barked Tony, temporarily forgetting his anger at Tim going AWOL.

 

Tim reeled off the address, giving as many specifics as possible. Gibbs sat in silence, obviously listening and contemplating.

 

“Boss? Did you…did you get that.”

 

A slight, almost imperceptible nod and Gibbs reached into his pocket for his cell phone, which he opened and put to his ear.

 

“Yeah, Gibbs.” He appeared to listen and reached for his notebook. “Uh, huh. OK. Got it.” He snapped his phone shut and stood up. “Martin.”

 

The young man sitting at Tim’s old desk jerked his attention away from his monitors. “Yes, Gibbs?”

 

“Get a warrant for this address. Anonymous tip says it’s the base for the smuggling ring Monroe’s been using.”

 

“But sir, we’re going to need more than—“

 

“David, Fontaine, go check it out. Take Balboa’s team as back-up. Get the probable cause for the warrant. Understood?”

 

“Agent Gibbs, just how reliable is this anonymous source?” Fontaine asked.

 

Gibbs glanced up at the place where Tim was standing. “Very. Go. I’ll bring the warrant as soon as it’s signed.”

 

Ziva and Fontaine exchanged glances before they headed for Balboa’s desk. Gibbs watched them leave before allowing a smile to cross his face.

 

“Guess I should inform the Director.” He bent down, typed something into his computer, and then started up the stairs towards Vance’s office. Tim rushed over to see what Gibbs had typed.

 

_Good job._

 

For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile crossed Tim’s face. Maybe this was where they belonged, after all.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

When Tim was gone, Tony got bored. He called out his name, but after Gibbs growled at him, he shut up and started prowling around the place. He thought maybe that Tim had gone down to see Abby without saying something, so he moved down there first. It didn't take long for him to realize that Tim wasn't there. So, he figured he'd probably just gone to have some time alone. Tony knew he was a lot for anybody to take full time. He snorted, the thought amusing him. When he got bored again, though, he started wandering around, watching agents. That wasn't any fun, considering they didn't know he was there.

 

That got him to thinking, and he decided to go look into the womens’ bathroom. Feeling like Jiraya on a good day, he moved into the room, only to be disappointed. The whole place was frilly, sparkly, and … smelled like roses. He wrinkled his nose and looked through the room. It was empty. He waited around to see if someone would come in, but no one did for a while. Then, when someone did come in, it was Delores from HR. She was a nice lady, but... Tony left the bathroom fairly quickly, deciding never to go back into a women's restroom unless he had to.

 

Still bored, he moved back out to the floor, wondering where his partner was. He looked all over the building, even slipping through the door into MTAC – which felt extremely weird. Finally, he just decided to wait in the Bullpen, and Tim came back in, sounding out of breath – which didn't make any sense to Tony. Ghosts didn't breathe, so they wouldn't be out of breath. He supposed it was that perception thing again.

 

He panicked, heading over to where Tim stood, looking him over, making sure the other man, no, the other ghost, was still fine. “McGee! Where in the hell have you been?” He realized his mistake when Gibbs' head jerked toward them. Well, maybe not jerk, but for Gibbs, it was the same thing.

 

Tim's apologies and explanations soothed him, but he was still frustrated. While Gibbs was busy ordering the children around, he whirled around to McGee and scowled. “I know you're all the king of the ectoplasm here, McBoo, but do not ever leave like that again. Please. Give me a heads up, okay? I thought you'd gone on to the Great Beyond without me."

 

“Yeah, alright, Tony. Calm down.” Tim whispered. Tony figured that it was because they were close enough to Gibbs to bother him if they were much louder now that Ziva and Fontaine had run off to go check things out.

 

Tony sighed, waiting for the warrant to come so they could pile into the car and follow the girls.

 

XXX

 

Gibbs grabbed his gun and his badge and followed Martin out of the office. He looked over to where he knew the boys were and cocked his head, getting a verbal assent from them. He knew it was probably as hinky as hell to work off the source without knowing much about it, especially for Martin, but he knew if the boys were gonna keep helping him, he'd have to deal with this on a regular basis.

 

Martin had come up with the warrant, though he'd had to stretch the truth to do so. He clearly was not pleased with it. “Are you sure you can't tell me any more about the informant?” He'd asked Gibbs, and Gibbs had merely glared at him until he'd gone back. The law provided for information from anonymous sources. It was just easier to prove to a judge if you had a face and a name.

 

He drove them to the site Tim had given them the address for, and Tim continued to give them information about the layout and how many people, etc. He listened, though Martin kept interrupting him with stupid questions. Finally, he just glared the younger man into silence, amidst the snickers of the two men behind them. He cleared his throat, and it was enough for the two agents to fall silent for a few moments. He rolled his eyes and pulled into the parking lot. “Anything else you can tell me?” He asked the open air when Martin got out.

 

“On it Boss,” they chorused, then he heard their bickering disappear as they exited the car. They must have gone through the wall or window or something, because it wasn't but a few minutes later before they were out, explaining layout and numbers to him.

 

He met up with Balboa's team along with Fontaine and Ziva, and frowned. “Sounds like there's about five people inside, and it's a fairly standard building. Warehouse with two big rooms and three smaller ones around the edge. Two in the big room, and two in one of the smaller rooms. The fifth is right near the door.” They looked at him strangely, wondering where he was getting the information, but at this point any information was welcome.

 

“We have enough for probable cause, easily,” Ziva replied, pointing out a few things around the area that were sure signs of a drug place once they'd been recognized for what they were.

 

“Good enough.” He gestured the agents into position, three in the back, three in the front, and one on each side in case there were other exits they hadn't seen. He took Fontaine, Martin and one of Balboa's bunch, and left Ziva with Balboa and another of his guys. “Stay sharp,” he commanded, unsure of how his new team would work together.

 

“Got it Boss,” they chorused, one over top of the other. He nodded, and they fell into position easily. He counted to three, and jerked his head, opening the door. “Federal Agents,” he called, and there was the sound of gunfire. He ducked behind a container, and Fontaine did the same. Gesturing to her, he directed her where he wanted her to go, and together they made a sweep of the room. It didn't take long to find the men. Three of them had clearly been sampling their own product. The other two weren't exactly intelligent men, and they were mostly there to guard the others. Gibbs could hear Tony reciting the Miranda with Martin, and he rolled his eyes, mimicking a slap. He heard it, and Tony's outrage. He allowed himself a half smile before they returned to get the idiots loaded into the car. One of the men was indeed Richardson, and he looked flabbergasted to have been caught.

 

“How'd you find me, Gibbs? Bug me?” He sounded highly offended that the man might have done something unethical to catch him in the commission of a crime.

 

“Not exactly.” Gibbs shrugged. He refused to answer anything else, just grinned, stepping away to welcome the cars of agents coming to help clean up and take the idiots in.

 

XXX

 

Gibbs sat in his basement, listening to the boys chatter, sipping at his bourbon. It wasn't the same as physically having them here, but their presence comforted him anyway, so he let them chatter on about their day as if they were. He'd rather be seeing DiNozzo drip pizza grease on his shirt, or McGee fiddle with his phone, but he'd take what he could get.

 

Speaking of taking what they could get, he heard the door to the basement swing open, and Fornell strode down the stairs. “Who the hell told you about that case, Gibbs? It better not have been our informant. He promised us nobody would ...” Gibbs held up his hand, and Fornell fell silent.

 

“Nobody from your side of the fence, Tobias. I got it from somebody entirely new. Someone was behind him when he drove from dropping Monroe off and went straight to the warehouse. Didn't even look to see if he had a tail, they said.”

 

“You had somebody tail him?” Fornell sounded livid. And with good reason. If he had had someone track Richardson, it would invalidate everything they found. It was illegal to track someone like that without reasonable cause.

 

“No, Fornell, I did not have someone tail him. Guy was traveling on his own recognizance, and managed to stay behind him. Noticed where he was going. Stepped close enough to listen, and heard enough to incriminate him. Friend of mine, didn't even know … just knew the guy was a lawyer...” That was stretching the truth a little, but all of it was difficult to explain, especially to someone who probably would insist that he go have his head checked out. Even though it had netted him a coup of an arrest.

 

“You just … eight months of work trying to figure out what that bastard was doing, and you stumbled on to it in a week. Not fair, Gibbs.” Fornell reached for the bourbon, and it was then that Gibbs noticed that the boys had fallen silent.

 

“You are gonna have to provide a little more than that for court, Boss.” Tim piped up, just as Tobias said something similar.

 

“Ah, well, I'll find out about your mysterious witness when it's time for court.”

 

Gibbs winced. _Crap_.

 

“We'll figure it out, Boss. There's always the Ona Mae route. I mean, we'll have to look a bit. You haven't found anybody else who fits the bill yet, have you, McGhost?”

 

“No, Tony, I haven't.” McGee sounded a little worried.

 

“So, there is something hinky about it?” Fornell pressed, leaning in.

 

Gibbs just grunted, draining his bourbon and getting more. “Not hinky legally. Just the normal kind.”

 

“Whatever the hell that means, Gibbs.” Fornell sounded upset that Gibbs wouldn't tell him.

 

“We'll figure it out.” Gibbs assured all three men. Well, one man and two ghosts. “Goin' t' bed. Turn the light off when you're done, unless...” He waited, needing to hear if the boys wanted the light on.

 

“No, Boss, shut it off. We'll be fine,” Tim spoke up.

 

“Naw, not tonight. Just shut off the lights.” Gibbs covered his own pause, and Fornell looked at him strangely.

 

“Lay off the sauce, Jethro, you're starting to sound like DiNutzo.”

 

“Wouldn't mind that at all,” Gibbs replied quietly, heading toward the stairs. Fornell followed him, dutifully hitting the switch as he did. Gibbs looked back just in time to see Fornell wince at his own choice of words. Gibbs waved it off, not wanting anything more than to just go to sleep and deal with the goat rope tomorrow.

 

“Night, Gibbs.”

 

“Night, Toby.” And Tobias left, leaving Gibbs with his ghosts.   


	7. Chapter 7

Tim and Tony accompanied Gibbs into work the next morning, and Tim was not surprised in the least that they (well, Gibbs, but he and Tony automatically followed) had been summoned by Vance. When they entered the Director’ office, Vance was on the phone mollifying someone high up in the FBI who was obviously not happy with the situation at hand. The three of them waited patiently for Vance to finish his call, which ended with Vance placing the handset back on the phone with a little more force than necessary.

 

“You wanted to see me, Director?”

 

Vance glared at Gibbs before replying, but Tim thought he saw a slight twitch of a smile in the man’s normally deadpan expression.

 

“Hell of a mess, Gibbs. A heads-up would have been nice.”

 

“I had a lead. I followed it.”

 

“Yes, and that ‘lead’ has produced quite a string of problems, mainly the infringement on the FBI’s territory.”

 

“Too bad they didn’t tell us they were investigating sooner. Might have saved themselves some trouble.”

 

“You and I both know that never would have happened.” Gibbs just shrugged. “So as a result I’ve been putting out fires since the whole thing went down.”

 

“We had probable cause, got the warrant…I’m not seeing the problem, Leon.”

 

Vance looked like he barely managed not to roll his eyes. “The problem is how you got probable cause in the first place.”

 

“Confidential informant.”

 

“So you’ve claimed. Richardson, however, is unconvinced, and his lawyers are out for blood. They’re working on a court order for us to produce said informant or face charges of unlawful surveillance.” Vance gave Gibbs a small sardonic smile. “I’ve been giving them the run-around, but eventually we’re going to have to pay the piper. I trust you _will_ be able to produce this informant when that finally happens?”

 

“Workin’ on it, Leon. Might take some time, though. He’s not exactly a fan of lawyers.”

 

“None of us are, Gibbs, but we all do have our preferences. Mine is not to lose this case.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“You do that. Make sure your informant knows, too.”

 

“I’m sure he already does,” Gibbs replied with a smirk.

 

Vance was not impressed. “Then you have a week to convince him to come in. I don’t think I can hold them off any longer than that.”

 

“I think I can swing that.”

 

“Good. See that you do.”

 

“Will there be anything else, Director?”

 

Vance studied Gibbs for a moment, and Tim thought he was going ask Gibbs something else, but instead he just said, “I expect all of the paperwork for this case on my desk by the end of the work day.”

 

“Not a problem.”

 

“Good. Dismissed.” Vance growled as he sat down in his chair and picked up top file from the stack on his desk, which he opened and started to read. Gibbs turned and walked out of the office without another word, followed by his agents.

 

Once they were in the elevator, Tim spoke up.

 

“Uh, Boss? Do you…you do have a plan, right? I mean, of course you do, but…”

 

“DiNozzo…”

 

“On it, Boss,” Tony replied with a grin and smacked the back of Tim’s head. “I’ve been _waiting_ to do that.”

 

Tim glared at his partner before continuing. “So what _is_ the plan?”

 

“Got someone who owes me a favor. Gonna call it in.”

 

“Oh, right, of course.”

 

“Anyone we know?”

 

“Rudolf Kruse.”

 

“Rudy? Yeah, I remember him, Boss.” Tony chuckled. “He didn’t have the greatest taste in movies, but a good guy otherwise. You sure he’ll help?”

 

“Like I said, he owes me a favor.”

 

The elevator doors opened and Gibbs headed for his desk. The rest of the team was clustered around Ziva’s desk and they all turned to Gibbs with questioning (and worried) expressions on their faces.

 

“Director wants the paperwork for this case on his desk by the end of the day.”

 

They all seemed to accept that as Martin and Fontaine returned to their own desks as well, while Tony and Tim took their places behind Gibbs’ chair. Tim looked longingly at his own computer, still wishing he could help with the case in a more tangible way, and soon his thoughts drifted to their current situation. He remembered the man Gibbs was planning on using as a cover, and while he hated to doubt the Boss, he was worried that the whole thing was going to blow up in their faces. Well, Gibbs’ face, since he and Tony were well past the point of being having _their_ jobs threatened…

 

He and Tony had first encountered Rudolf Kruse a couple of years ago during the course of an investigation. Kruse had been in Gibbs’ unit in Kuwait, but was at least a decade older than the lead agent, and had looked every year of it. He had come to their attention when he became a suspect in the murder of another member of Gibbs’ old unit. Vance had been ready to pull Gibbs’ from the case due to his connections, but had finally allowed him to keep working on it after Tim had shown him concrete proof that supported Gibbs’ ‘gut’. The team had eventually found enough evidence to clear Kruse and had identified the true perpetrator, but the man’s mistrust of all things related to law enforcement had been evident. Tim wondered if he really would be willing to help them and, based on his previous experience in dealing with the gruff ex-Marine, would believe the true reason behind Gibbs’ need for help.

 

The team completed their work well before the deadline, and just when it looked like they’d be allowed to go home early, Gibbs’ phone rang, signaling the start of a new case. Gibbs sent Fontaine and Martin to gas up the truck while he and Ziva went to inform Ducky and Palmer their assistance was required as well.

 

Gibbs took one of the agency sedans for himself, but Ziva asked if she could join him, so Tony and Tim took their spots in the back seat. They drove out of the Yard in silence.

 

“Something on your mind, Ziva?” Gibbs finally asked.

 

“I was wondering…how you are doing.”

 

“Why?”

 

Tim could not see her face, but he had heard that tone before and could imagine her expression.

 

“I know…I know how much you cared about Tony, and McGee. You have suffered many losses, and—“

 

“I’m fine, Ziver.” His head turned slightly towards her. “You?”

 

She gave a shaky laugh. “No. Not really. Sometimes…sometimes I still expect them to come walking into the bullpen, bickering with each other. Sometimes I feel like I can still hear them.” Tony and Tim exchanged worried glances. “But I cannot. I miss them, Gibbs.”

 

“We all do, Ziver,” Gibbs replied, his voice gentle.

 

“But we must accept it. I realize, the work cannot stop, but…would it be so bad, to just acknowledge what you must be feeling?”

 

Gibbs was silent, and Tim’s gaze flicked back and forth between Gibbs and Tony, wondering which would break first.

 

“We can cover ours ears if you want, Boss.”

 

Gibbs sent Tony a dirty look in the rear view mirror. “What do you want me to say, Ziva?”

 

“Just tell me why you have accepted their deaths so quickly. One moment we were still searching for them and the next…you decided that they were gone. You _believed_ it. Why?”

 

“Sometimes you just know.”

 

Ziva huffed in annoyance. “That is it? You gave up on them because—“

 

“I didn’t give up. You know I wouldn’t do that, Ziva.”

 

“Then what happened?”

 

Tim and Tony waited, wondering how much Gibbs would reveal.

 

“They wouldn’t have just left, Ziva. Not without a damn good reason.”

 

“And that reason was…?”

 

Gibbs sighed. “That last night, after we had been searching…I knew. Like I knew with Shannon and Kelly. I recognized that feeling.”

 

Ziva was silent for a few moments. “I am sorry, Gibbs. I should have realized…”

 

“It’s OK, Ziver. Wish it wasn’t like that, but it is.”

 

“I…understand.”

 

Gibbs reached over and gently squeezed her shoulder before returning his hand to the wheel. They drove the rest of the way to the crime scene in silence.

 

After they arrived and Gibbs had assigned the rest of the team their tasks, Tony finally asked the question Tim had wanted to ask since the conversation in the car.

 

“Why didn’t you tell her, Boss? About us?”

 

Gibbs watched his team move out of sight before answering.

 

“Figured she’s got enough ghosts in her life, Tony. She doesn’t need any more.”

 

XXX

 

It was almost midnight when the team returned to the Yard, and Gibbs sent his team home, although he ordered them to be in by 0700 the next morning. Tony asked Gibbs is he was going to contact Kruse tonight, but Gibbs just rolled his eyes and muttered that even he needed sleep sometimes.

 

When Gibbs started to leave Tony followed him to the elevator but Tim remained in the bullpen. Tony noticed his absence and turned to see him staring at his desk.

 

“You coming?”

 

“I think I’ll stay here tonight.”

 

“Need company?”

 

Tim gave him a weak smile. “That’s OK. I need a little alone time, that’s all.”

 

“What are you up to?”

 

“Nothing, Tony. I promise I’ll be here when you return tomorrow morning.”

 

“I’m holding you to that,” he called as he joined Gibbs on the elevator. Once the doors closed Tim returned his attention to his desk. Yes, _his_ desk. He still thought of it that way, despite the fact that another agent occupied it during work hours.

 

_Guess Ziva isn’t the only one having trouble with letting go…_

 

Standing by and watching while the new team processed the crime scene had been more difficult than he expected. Several times he had caught himself starting to correct Martin or offer him advice, only to remember that it was a useless exercise. The new probie would have to learn on his own or suffer the wrath of Gibbs. He didn’t even have Tony to help him along, Tim mused and then smiled. He knew how much the older man had influenced him, even if he wasn’t likely to tell Tony that.

 

While he was at the crime scene, Tim had gone over the searches in his mind that would be needed when the team returned. Some of them were relatively simple, but there was one trick that Tim was fairly sure Martin didn’t know about. Maybe…

 

Tim walked over to his old desk and sat down in front of the computer, wondering if he could actually do what he wanted. He was careful not to move the chair any before he sat down, just in case someone was watching, and he very carefully willed the keys to depress under his fingers as he started the search. Martin had changed some settings and installed a few security measures but Tim easily bypassed them and soon got lost in the data scrolling down his screen. Finally the answer he was looking for popped up and he grinned. He quickly copied the information to an email, sent it to Gibbs, and then erased all signs of his presence on the computer. Satisfied and more than a little delighted that he had been able help on a case in a tangible way, Tim carefully rose from the chair and walked back over to Gibbs’ desk. Gibbs’ had left the word program open, so Tim typed _check your email_ before settling down into Gibbs’ chair.

 

Soon the rush brought on by the search faded and boredom took over. Tim checked Gibbs’ computer to see if by some remote chance there were any games on it and was not completely surprised to find Minesweeper. He played a few rounds of that before wandering over to Tony’s old desk. Fontaine hadn’t installed any security on her computer, so Tim searched until he found the games file. He was surprised to find Tony’s old games still in place (he briefly wondered if someone in cybercrimes actually had a sense of humor and had left them there) and he started to play.

 

The next time Tim looked up he saw that it was starting to get light out. Surprised that he had been occupied for that long, and had also remained undisturbed, he got to his feet and stretched. He didn’t experience the normal sensation of the exercise, but old habits were old habits.

 

He walked over to the window and watched the world outside brighten and fade into view, and he was still standing there an hour later when Gibbs and Tony arrived.

 

“McGee! How was your ‘alone time’?”

 

Tim turned and smiled when he saw Tony bounding toward him. “Productive.”

 

“Oh yeah, how?”

 

“Boss,” he turned and saw Gibbs was already reading his message. “Did you get it?”

 

“Get what?” Tony asked, but Gibbs just gave a slight nod as he started to read through the data Tim had sent. “Hacking? That was your alone time?”

 

“I wasn’t hacking, Tony, just…using a protocol that I wasn’t sure Martin would know about.”

 

“Old habits die hard.” Tim just looked at him and Tony started laughing. “Sorry, but have to admit—“ Tim had already caught Gibbs’ gesture and gave Tony’s head a smack. The older man winced and gave him a dirty look. Gibbs just smirked and picked up his phone’s headset to call the first lead on Tim’s list.

 

By the time the rest of the team arrived, Gibbs had tasks for all of them. He was in the middle of telling Ziva and Fontaine who to go question when a startled exclamation drew everyone’s attention to the youngest agent.

 

“What?” Gibbs barked and Martin stammered a bit as he tried to explain.

 

“S-someone’s been using my computer. Was it you?” he asked Fontaine, and she chuckled.

 

“Why would I use yours when I have my own? And how do you know someone else has been using it?”

 

“There are some things out of place. I know I left them a certain way last night…”

 

“We were all tired last night, Martin. Maybe you just forgot,” Ziva replied.

 

“No, I didn’t. I have a very specific routine, and—“

 

“You didn’t follow it. It happens,” said Gibbs, the tone of his voice telling the younger man to drop it.

 

“But I…I wouldn’t have done that, Gibbs. I’m sure of it.”

 

Fontaine grinned. “Well then maybe the spirit of Agent McGee got bored and decided to play around on his old computer. You know, for old time’s sake.”

 

“That’s really not funny, Rayna…”

 

“Neither is unemployment,” Gibbs growled.  Fontaine’s grin vanished and a bit of color rose in her cheeks.

 

“Sorry, Agent Gibbs. That was inappropriate.”

 

Gibbs gave her a ‘ya think’ look before finishing giving the assignments. Ziva and Fontaine left as Martin was still fussing over his computer and Gibbs headed for the elevator. Once they were inside, Gibbs spoke.

 

“McGee?”

 

“Boss?”

 

“Next time, use _my_ computer.”

 

“Yes, Boss.”

 

XXX

 

After getting an update on their current case from both Ducky and Abby, Gibbs decided it was time to deal with the problem from the previous case. He went back to his desk and checked through his rolodex for the number before heading out to make the call. The phone rang several times before a whiskey-roughened voice answered.

 

_“What?”_

 

“Kruse? It’s Gibbs.”

 

_“Gunny. Why the hell are you calling so early?”_

 

“Need a favor.”

 

Gibbs heard a deep chuckle. _“Finally calling in your marker, huh? What do you need?”_

 

“Need to talk. Got a place we can meet?”

 

_“Yeah, yeah. You know that little diner under the overpass on 8 th street?”_

 

“Yep.”

 

_“Be there in an hour. You’re buying.”_

 

“Got it. See you then.” He snapped the phone shut and started walking back towards the building.

 

“What did he say, Boss?”

 

Gibbs chuckled softly. He still hadn’t completely gotten used to hearing a voice out of nowhere.

 

“Meeting him in an hour, Tony. You two can tag along if you want.”

 

“You got it, Boss.”

 

After returning to his desk and making a few more calls, Gibbs told Martin he was heading out to check on a lead and made the trip to the diner. When he arrived and went inside, he checked the area and saw Kruse sitting at the back of the dining room, coffee cup in front of him on the table. The man looked a bit worse for wear, but he raised his head as soon as the door opened and appraised Gibbs with clear eyes before raising his mug in greeting.

 

Gibbs approached the booth and offered his hand, which Kruse shook without comment. After he was seated Kruse gave him a sympathetic smile.

 

“Long time, no see, Gunny. How you been?”

 

“Managing.”

 

“Yeah, I hear ya. Heard what happened to your agents. DiNozzo and McGee, right? Hell of a thing. They ever find out what happened?”

 

“No.” Before he could elaborate the waitress approached to take his order. Once she was gone, Kruse sat back to study him.

 

“You’re at peace with it, though, aren’t you? That fire you usually have when a case is open ain’t there this time.”

 

“Yeah. I have to be.”

 

Kruse nodded. “So what do you need?”

 

“Got a case, drug related. Made a bust based on information from an informant.”

 

“Yeah, that happens. Why do you need me?”

 

“Perp’s lawyers want to talk to my informant and there’s no way he’ll be able to meet with them.”

 

“So, what, you need someone to pose as your informant?” Gibbs smirked. Kruse had always been more on the ball than he appeared.

 

“It would help.”

 

“Gunny, need I remind you that the only person that hates lawyers more than you is me? No way in hell I’m going anywhere near a bunch of overpaid jackasses.”

 

“And if you don’t, another overpaid jackass will walk.”

 

“Perp’s a lawyer?” Gibbs nodded. “Hell, Gunny, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?”

 

“One you can help me with, Rudy.”

 

“If I was so inclined, which I’m not. What can’t your informant come in?”

 

“That’s…a long story.”

 

Kruse snorted. “You really didn’t have an informant, did you Gunny? And now you’re just covering your ass.  I know you’ve straddled that line before, between what’s legal and doing what needs to be done. Now it looks like it’s come back to haunt you.”

 

“One way of putting it.”

 

This time Kruse laughed out loud. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” He thought for a moment and then grinned. “Tell you what, Gibbs: you get DiNozzo and McGee to talk me into it, and I’ll do it.”

 

“Challenge accepted,” said Tony from behind Gibbs and he heard McGee groan.

 

“Tony…” They started to bicker and Gibbs barely managed not to roll his eyes.

 

“That your final decision?” Gibbs asked Kruse, ignore the discord behind him.

 

Kruse laughed again. “I don’t believe in ghosts, Gunny. But if I’m convinced otherwise, yeah. I’ll do it. Not expecting that to happen, though.”

 

“OK.” Gibbs pulled a few bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table. “I’ll get my breakfast to go. See you around, Rudy.”

 

“See ya, Gibbs.”

 

Gibbs took care of his breakfast order, paid, and left the diner, the sounds of the two former agents arguing following him. When he reached his car he decided to end the argument.

 

“Hey!” Both voices immediately went silent. “Let’s go.”

 

After they were in the car and headed back to the Yard, Tim spoke.

 

“Boss, you’re not seriously considering…”

 

“You heard what he said, McGee. Think you two can convince him?”

 

“On it, Boss,” Tony replied and Gibbs could almost imagine the wicked grin the agent undoubtedly was wearing.

 

“I…” He heard Tim sigh. “Yes, Boss.”

 

“Yes!”

 

Gibbs just shook his head and managed to hide a smile. His life was definitely interesting…

 

XXX

 

After Gibbs had dropped them off a couple of blocks away, Tony and Tim walked to Kruse’s house and stopped outside to survey the structure. Tony only needed a few moments of consideration before he started up the front steps. When he reached the front door he turned to Tim, only to find that his partner was still standing on the sidewalk.

 

“What are you waiting for, Tim? We’ve got a job to do.”

 

Tim sighed. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to haunt someone. I feel ridiculous.”

 

“Well, you _are_ a ghost, McPoltergeist. This should come naturally.”

 

Tim smirked. “To some of us.”

 

Tony shot him a dirty look. Even though Tim had worked with him and he had really put effort into learning, he still hadn’t managed to be able to move objects as well as his partner. He could move small things and knock larger items over, but throwing and carrying (and yes, typing) evaded him.

 

“Whatever. Come on.”

 

Tim soon joined him on the porch and they walked through the front door and into a small foyer with stairs leading to the second floor. The interior of the house was plain but clean and it remind Tony of Gibbs’ place. There wasn’t a lot of furniture but the pieces he could see as he looked through the first doorway into the living room had ceased to be fashionable a couple of decades ago. One wall of the room was lined with free-standing bookshelves and a large lazy-boy recliner sat in one corner.  A rather nice home theater system covered most of the opposite wall.  They noticed light shining through an open door further down the hall and the two men walked over to examine the doorway. It led to a kitchen, in which Kruse stood in front of an ugly green stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled rather unappetizing.

 

“So now what?” Tim asked. Kruse did not seem to hear him.

 

Tony considered the question. “I wonder if he has a computer you can use to send him a message.”

 

“I’ll check.” Tim disappeared through another doorway as Tony watched Kruse stir his dinner and occasionally take a sip from the bottle of beer he held in his other hand. A few minutes later Tim returned.

 

“No computer, but he does have an old typewriter upstairs in a spare bedroom. Doesn’t look like it’s been used for a while, though.”

 

“Great. Any paper?”

 

“Yeah, a few sheets.” Tim raised an eyebrow. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

 

“Yep. Get to work, McTypist.”

 

“Might be more effective if he actually _saw_ me typing, you know.”

 

“He can’t see you at all.”

 

“You know what I mean. We need to get him upstairs. I don’t want to have to wait until his bedtime, either.”

 

“Yeah, Gibbs is waiting.” He glanced around and his eyes lit upon an old umbrella standing near the front door. “There. Knock that over. That should get his attention at least.”

 

“You do it. You need the practice.”

 

“Fine.” He walked over to it, concentrated, and managed to tip it over. It hit the floor with a _thunk_ , which brought Kruse out of the kitchen.

 

“Who’s there?” He looked around and saw the umbrella on the floor, which caused him to let out a snort of laughter. “Gotta do better than that, Gibbs.” He checked the rest of the house inside before making a circuit of the property. Tony followed, just to make sure he wasn’t going to run off on them. Kruse finally returned to the front door and shut it before double-bolting it and sliding the chain in place. He then returned to the kitchen and cursed loudly when he found that his dinner was a bit scorched.

 

After removing the edible portion of his dinner from the pan and putting it on a plate, Kruse headed for the living room. He set the plate on the stand next to the chair before flopping into the recliner and pulling the lever to raise the footrest. He grabbed the remote, flipped on the TV and scanned through a few channels before settling on the classic movie channel.

 

“ _Rebecca_. Good choice.” Tony grinned wickedly. “And appropriate.”

 

“Why?”

 

Tony sighed. “I really hope it’s not too late to improve your movie education, McGee.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m sure we have time, but not right now. Come on, Tony, let’s just get this over with.

 

“Fine.” He walked over to the bookshelf behind Kruse and scanned the titles. He found a copy of _Clear and Present Danger_ and focused on pulling it off the shelf. Finally he managed and the book fell to the floor with a thump. Kruse turned his head at the sound, a puzzled look on his face.

 

“The hell was that?”

 

He got up and searched the area behind him, and when he discovered the book on the floor his frown deepened before he leaned over to retrieve the book. Before he touched it, Tony kicked it across the room. Kruse jumped back with a gasp, his eyes wide. Cautiously he approached the book again, but Tim reached it first and slid it out into the hallway to the base of the stairs. Kruse swore in surprise and looked around.

 

“Alright, Gibbs, enough is enough. Got more tricks than I thought, Gunny.” He crouched down and started checking the bookcase and floor, probably for wires or something, Tony guessed. He resisted the temptation to kick the guy in the butt. Barely.

 

Finding nothing, Kruse returned to the hallway and approached the book again. This time Tim picked it up and tossed it up the steps where it landed about halfway up. Kruse stopped and looked around, noticeably shaking. After a few deep breaths he started up the stairs after the book but Tim made it past him and tossed the book again. It landed on the top step.

 

Kruse froze, staring at the book, before he shook his head. “This is crazy.” He checked the stair where the book had been only moments before. “Not funny, Gibbs. How are you doing this?” He cautiously climbed the stairs the rest of the way, but this time Tony got there first and slid the book down the hall to the spare room. As Kruse watched, Tim pushed the door open and Tony kicked the book into the room. He stared, open-mouthed, as the chair in front of the desk was moved.

 

“Holy…”

 

“Now do you believe in ghosts?” Tony snarked as Kruse walked past him and into the room, still wide-eyed and silent. Tim sat in the chair and turned to the typewriter where he began to slowly press the keys. Tony leaned over Kruse’s shoulder to read what was being printed on the paper.

 

 **Gibbs needs your help**. **Do what he asks. Please. – McGee**

Kruse let out a shaky laugh. “Well I’ll be damned… Where’s your partner, Agent McGee?”

 

Tim looked over his shoulder and Tony saw a wicked grin cross the younger man’s face before he turned back to the typewriter.

 

**Behind you.**

 

Kruse spun around and his eyes flicked back and forth, looking for something he’d never be able to see. Tony casually walked over and pushed the door shut. Kruse backed away and bumped the chair, only to spin around again as he realized what he had done.

 

“S-sorry.”

 

 **No problem** , Tim typed, and Tony grinned.

 

“W-what…what does Gibbs need me to do?”

 

And Tim told him.

 

XXX

 

Gibbs waited silently in his car, parked a few blocked from Kruse’s house. He had no idea if the boys would be successful, considering how well he knew Kruse, but considering how well he knew the two men he was sure they’d give it their best shot.

 

He’d been waiting for almost an hour when his cell phone rang. He checked the number and a smile crossed his face as he answered.

 

“Yeah, Gibbs.”

 

_“Must be nice, that level of loyalty. Didn’t even stop after death.”_

 

Gibbs chuckled. “You willing to help?”

 

_“A deal is a deal, Gunny.”_

 

“Expect to see you at the Yard at 0800, Marine.”

 

Kruse laughed. _“I’ll be there.”_ A pause. _“This better be the only time, Gibbs.”_

 

“Don’t worry. It will be.”

 

Kruse hung up and Gibbs let out a small sigh of relief. He’d definitely have to be more careful in the future.

 

“Mission accomplished, Boss.” Tony’s voice declared.

 

“I noticed.”

 

“He’s going to cooperate, right?”

 

“So he says, McGee.”

 

“Good. I’m not looking forward to doing anything like that again.”

 

“Aw, you liked it, McSpooky. Admit it.”

 

Tim said nothing and Gibbs grinned as he put his car in gear and headed home.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs sat in his chair and waited for Rudolf to come in. He wondered where the ghosts were, but figured they were close by. He pulled out a file, making a couple notations where his buddy would have to sign. His phone rang, and he picked it up. “Gibbs.”

 

“Sir, there is a Corporal Kruse here to see you. He says it's on the Richardson case. Should I give him a pass and send him up?”

 

“Yeah...” Gibbs began, but then changed his mind. He needed to do this outside the building. “No, I'll come down to him.” He thought about talking to Rudy in the conference room, but it was pretty heavily monitored. “Goin' out for coffee.” His team all nodded, busy with their own tasks.

 

“Yes, sir.” Gibbs growled as he hung up the phone. The man at the desk had been an ensign for years, and had gotten used to saluting anything and everything. He knew he'd never break him of the habit of calling him 'sir'. He sighed and rose to his feet, striding to the elevator to go down to meet his friend.

 

While in the elevator, he thought about what he wanted to say. He had the file tucked under his arm, and he did need to get Rudy's signature on the thing, but otherwise, they had to make sure that they were on the same page. This was frustrating, but it was necessary. They had to find a better way to do this from now on. Or have Tim find his leads another way.

 

“Gunny.” The elevator opened, and Kruze greeted him.

 

“Corporal.” He snorted, stuck out a hand. “So. Let's go for coffee. You probably have a pretty good idea why I need your help.”

 

“Little helpers, huh?” The other man looked around as though he could see the boys. “They here?”

 

“Not that I know of, no. I can hear 'em. Haven't been able to see 'em. C'mon.” He jerked his head toward the door. Both men went out, falling silent as they walked over to a table near the coffee cart. Gibbs grabbed coffee for both of them, then sat down at an empty table. He laid out the papers, gesturing to a couple points where the other man needed to read and sign.

 

“Crap. That's gotta suck.” Kruze replied to Gibbs' comment about his agents as he sat down across from him and started filling out the paperwork.

 

“Yeah, kinda.” He pushed the coffee over and grinned. “Here.”

 

“Yeah, alright. Gotta get something out of this goat rope.” Kruze snorted as he continued to write.

 

It was Gibbs' turn to snort as he took a large gulp of his own coffee, leaning over to see what Kruze was looking at. “You got the general idea?”

 

“Yeah, your boy was pretty clear. Tailed him to the warehouse because he was acting funny. Saw the paraphernalia outside. I drove past the place today to see where it was, and yeah. Some of that crap's definitely not there for landscaping value.” The old man gave Gibbs a huge grin.

 

Gibbs returned it with interest. “Good.” The two men continued to work on the paperwork, discussing the finer points of the case until Kruze had it all clear.

 

XXX

 

Mark Richardson picked up his phone and dialed a number. “You need to take care of Gibbs.”

 

The voice on the other line was silent for a moment. “ _You mean like take him out?_ ” Richardson was annoyed. Tarlan was a good helper, but sometimes, he could be extremely slow. He'd been the last of the old guard when Richardson had stepped in to take over, and he knew everything about how things were done. He was too valuable to kill off or let go. However, he was a very simple-minded man. Richardson wanted to slap him constantly to get his neurons to fire more quickly.

 

“Yes, that's what I mean, you idiot. He's endangering everything. He's got to die.” Richardson picked up a pen, twirled it in his fingers, and leaned back in his chair.

 

“ _That's gonna get costly. You know that it's a big deal to find someone willing to kill a cop. And a fed no less._ ” Mark rolled his eyes. He knew that. He knew it was an expensive proposition. He gave into his urge to berate the other man.

 

“Listen. I don't give a rats hairy ass how much it takes to get it done. What I care about is that it _does_ get done. You hear me?” Richardson snarled into the phone. “That _fed_ is getting way too close. I don't want to hear any more about how he's catching us out. That was embarrassing.” He continued to complain, language and abuse getting worse as he did.

 

“ _I'll send two of the guys over and catch him. Schmidtt and Unruh can take care of him._ ” Schmitt was a fairly new guy, but he was fast. He was wiry, and good with his fists. He also got a little antsy from time to time and the job would give him something to do to settle down. It always did. He'd been a street kid, glad for something to do and a little money for food. Growing up on the street had taught him how to deal with problems fairly efficiently. Mark liked that.

 

Unruh was a different matter. He'd been around for a while. He was a big black man with a mean punch. He'd always been one of Richardson's enforcers. Mark had gotten him out of some trouble, and in return, he'd started working with him. Luckily, neither man was taking. Yet. When they did, which was pretty inevitable around it so much, he'd have to replace them. For now, they made a decent pair. But he'd heard rumors and seen the fed. He wasn't the usual suit. The guy was lean, sharp, and aware. He'd need a ringer to make sure he didn't escape. He went down the list of men he had working for him, and grinned.

 

Anthony Parrish was just plain mean. He'd just gotten out of prison for assault, and would probably be on his way back in. Mark had kept him from more than one rap. He kept him around because the bastard was, as far as he could see, completely without a conscience. He was smart, too. Good with a gun. _Perfect._ “Better send a third. Send Parrish with him.” Richardson wrote down the specifics of what he was telling Tarlan. It was in a code. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, and he knew it, but he tried to disguise it to look enough like the cases he was working on that it could be brushed off as doodles – therefore inadmissible under the attorney / client privilege.

 

“ _Parrish too? All that for one guy? I heard he doesn't even keep his door locked._ ”

 

“There might be a reason for that. Tell them not to take him at home. Get him coming out of the building. In the dark.”

 

“ _That makes more sense. We'll do it._ ”

 

“Damn right you will,” Richardson hung up without a farewell.

 

XXX

 

Gibbs had just finished up his paperwork for the day, had sent the team home, and walked tiredly to his car. He stuck the key in the lock of the Challenger, running the other hand over the door as he did. A soft smile crossed his face at the memory of his father giving him the car. He snorted as he remembered the team's comments. He started to open the door, and froze, hearing something behind him. He pulled the key out of the lock, turned around slowly, silently, trying to find the source of the noise.

 

Two men, covered head to toe in black cloth, stepped fairly silently out of the darkness. Gibbs swore, his hand reaching for his gun. Before he could pull it out, however, one of the men, a burly black man, if he was seeing right, grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed him against the car. He kicked back, catching the man's legs and knocking him over. It also had the adverse effect of pulling Gibbs down on top of the man.

 

Gibbs wrenched his arm free and balanced himself on his other hand, working to get his legs under him. After a brief struggle, he had the man pinned on the ground. The other man came at him while he was holding the big man down. This guy was smaller, but much quicker. He grabbed Gibbs around the middle and yanked, pulling his weight off the other assailant. Gibbs jerked an elbow back, hitting the quick guy in the solar plexus and knocking the wind right out of him. He started to work on immobilizing him when he heard a very familiar click right near his ear. He froze and held up his hands.

 

The other two men stood, shook off their injuries, and pulled their own handguns. Gibbs sighed. The big guy swore as he stood, limping slightly on an injured leg. Instead of shooting him, he walked up to Gibbs, face a study in pure, unadulterated anger, and clocked him on the head with his pistol. The last thing he heard was one of the men saying, “Yeah, I know he said to take him out. We will. Just not here.” The tone didn't hold any promise for it being a quick death, either. The man was angry, and Gibbs would pay for it. He groaned internally, closed his eyes, and fell unconscious.

 

XXX

 

“McGoogle. Where's Gibbs?” Tony asked, hands stuffed in his pockets.

 

“I don't know, Tony. I heard Fontaine say he went home, but his car's still here. You haven't seen him?” Tim sounded worried. It wasn't like the Boss to veer too much away from his routine.

 

“Nope. I walked over to the coffee cart. She's closed. And he wasn't sitting at any of the benches. You sure he's not around here anywhere?” Tony was starting to get worried, too.

 

“Uh-oh, Tony.” Tim looked down at the ground and saw a torn piece of black cloth. “Anybody here we can alert?”

 

 

“There should be somebody. If nothing else, the night security could cordon it off until we can find out...” Tony looked around.

 

“Let's do that. Get them to cordon the area off and start trying to figure out where he went.” Tim sighed.

 

Tony nodded and the men started the short walk back to the building. “You want to do the honors since you're so good at it, McPoltergeist?”

 

“Tony, it's not that hard, but … yeah, I can do it.” Tim disappeared. He returned a short while later. “I logged on to Gibbs' computer and left a message for the night guard. I sent it through a couple remailers as an anonymous text.”

 

“Covering your tracks, McNinja. Nice.” Tony grinned, the grin widening as McGee scowled. The two men stood silently, waiting for the security guard to arrive.


	9. Chapter 9

Ethereal

 

Chapter 9

 

“What do we have, people?” Vance barked as he strode into the bullpen where the rest of Gibbs team was searching for some hint of who was responsible for Gibbs’ disappearance. He had just returned from the parking lot where another team had been searching for physical evidence of what had happened to the lead agent.

 

“The guards at the front gate have sent me information on all vehicles that passed through. I am running those down,” Agent David replied. She appeared calm but to someone who had worked with her for awhile, it was painfully obvious that her normal façade was close to cracking.

 

“I’ve checked the security videos,” Fontaine declared as she brought the footage up on the plasma. “Looks like three men, but they kept their faces hidden.” Vance winced as he watched the struggle between Gibbs and the three perpetrators. Gibbs had put up a good fight, even taking one of the men down temporarily, but was eventually taken down. He was shoved into the back of a dark SUV before his three attackers climbed into the vehicle and drove off. Fontaine paused the video and zoomed in on the license plate. “I ran that through the DMV database. It’s registered to a guard in the armory who didn’t show up for work. I’ve put out a BOLO and sent agents to his house.”

 

Vance and the two agents turned to Martin, who was typing furiously and muttering to himself, oblivious to their scrutiny.

 

“Agent Martin.” The young man flinched and looked up, blushing when he saw that he was the center of attention. “Sorry. I’m trying to track down the text message that was sent to security, but I’ve been unable to find the source. Everything I try takes me back to our computer system, but—“

 

“You’re saying this was an inside job?”

 

“No, no, I’m saying it was somehow routed through our system. I can’t find the original source, though.”

 

“This is related to the Richardson case, isn’t it?” Fontaine asked. “He’s our most recent case and he certainly has the connections to hire someone to do this? Why aren’t we--?”

 

“We are.” The ding of the elevator drew Vance’s attention and he grimaced when he saw who was exiting the elevator as soon as the door opened. “Agent Fornell. Anything?”

 

“Richardson spent the evening in full view of multiple witnesses, most of them high-power attorneys and judges. He’s got them all believing your case was a set up. Expect some pressure from the Brass in the morning.”

 

“Wonderful.”

 

“Luckily we’ve got a judge willing to give us the warrants to search his records and accounts. Gonna take some time, though.”

 

“Something tells me that’s a luxury we don’t have. David, start looking into Gibbs’ older cases, find out who was released recently. Fontaine, take the video evidence down to Ms. Sciuto and see if she can get anything on these perps, then help David. Martin?”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“As soon as those warrants come through get to work on Richardson’s records. In the mean time, help Agent David.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Vance turned to Fornell. “My office?” The FBI agent nodded and followed Vance up the stairs. At the top he paused to look down at the team at work, reflecting on the fact that for two of them, this was simply the job. He wondered if that would change how they would proceed compared to how things had been done in the past. Not for the first time, he wished two different agents were on the case, and felt that same sinking sensation he always did when he remembered that they were beyond being able to help ever again. With a sigh he proceeded to his office, sincerely hoping his agency hadn’t lost another important member of its team.

 

XXX

 

Tony followed Tim as they rushed up the front steps of Richardson’s townhouse and passed through the front door to the interior. A quick check of the house showed them Richardson wasn’t home and they soon found his study-slash-home office.

 

“Do you really think he’d have anything here that would implicate him, McGee? The guy’s a lawyer, he knows not to leave anything incriminating lying around.”

 

“Yeah, but he’s also arrogant. He’ll have something, it just won’t be obvious or easy to find. Hidden in a safe or in a normal-looking document, but he’ll have something. This is the kind of guy who needs his trophies.”

 

“You a profiler, now?”

 

Tim turned to Tony, well aware of how worried the other man was and that he tried to hide it by being snippy, but he really wasn’t in the mood to mollify his partner.”

 

“I’ve seen enough of his type over the years, Tony, and you’ve seen it too. Just…start looking for anything out of place.”

 

Tony muttered something that sounded pretty rude and ambled to the bookcase where he began to scan the shelves. Tim careful opened the desk drawer and started his own search. The drawer was obsessively neat, with nothing out of place. He closed it and checked the rest, finding nothing. Finally he flipped open a leather-bound notebook sitting on the desk and began to scan though it. On the second to last page, he found a series of words grouped together under an equation. He stared at the equation a minute and let out a soft snort.

 

“What?”

 

“I think I found something about Gibbs. This guy’s not a smart as he thinks he is.”

 

Tony walked over to look at what Tim was indicating. “G equals H minus TS? What’s that got to do with Boss?”

 

“Didn’t you ever take chemistry?” Tony just looked at him like ‘ _get to the point’_. “It’s the equation for _Gibbs_ Free Energy. Why would a lawyer be writing that down unless…?”

 

“Oh, yeah, good point. What’s the rest?”

 

“’ _Arak Komijan. Kennicutt. CA civ code 51. Assumption, LA._ ’”

 

“Well that makes no damn sense at all.”

 

“I think it’s word association, like the free energy equation went with Gibbs.” Tim studied it for a moment. “Names, maybe? Of the people he sent to grab Gibbs?”

 

“Yeah, maybe. Can you crack it?”

 

“If I had—“ The sound of the front door unlocking drew his attention and he cursed before flipping the book shut. “Sounds like Richardson is home.”

 

The heard the sound of footsteps in the hall and soon the owner of the house appeared in the doorway. He walked straight to his desk, opened the top drawer, and reached into the back to remove a small key. He then walked to his file cabinet, opened the top drawer all of the way to reveal a small keypad. As Richardson punched in the code Tim watched carefully, memorizing it, and his eyebrows rose in surprise when the man pulled out a cell phone. He punched a number and waited.

 

“Did it work?” Richardson asked when whoever was on the other end answered. He listened for a minute and smiled. “Excellent. What?” The smile grew. “Oh, yes, I’d very much like that. I’ll be there…” He checked his watch. “…in an hour. No. Because there are eyes on me. No, they know better than to even try that at this point.” He chuckled. “Can’t wait.” He snapped the phone shut and put it back in the cabinet, which he then locked and returned its key to its hiding place.

 

Richardson walked over to an elaborately carved sideboard that stood to the right of his desk and poured himself a drink from one of the crystal decanters. Tim barely resisted the urge to fling one of those fancy glass bottles at Richardson’s head, and he could tell Tony was thinking along the same lines. After Richardson finished his drink and left the room they followed, only to see him head up the stairs to the second level.

 

“We need to follow him. He’s going to where they have Gibbs, I know it.”

 

Tim knew it, too, but he was worried what they could actually do when and if they found Gibbs.

 

“We need to lead the team to Gibbs. Whoever called on that phone is probably with him right now, so if we can triangulate the position of the phone that was called last…”

 

“And how are you going to do that from here?”

 

Suddenly, Tim had an idea. “Ducky.”

 

“What?”

 

“Ducky lives close by. We get the phone to him and he’ll take it to NCIS.”

 

“And how are you planning on doing that?”

 

Tim opened the drawer, felt around until he found the key, and used it to unlock the cabinet. He punched in the code and retrieved the phone. “I’ll take it to him.”

 

“Yeah, and if someone sees a phone floating down the street…” Tim winced. Tony did have a point, but…

 

“I’ll hide it outside and get Ducky to come retrieve it.” He walked over to the window which overlooked the back yard. After examining the alarm connection, he retrieved a paperclip from the desk and used it to bypass the connection, raised the window and pushed the phone out onto the sill before shutting the window and re-engaging the alarm.

 

“Do I even want to know how you knew how to do that, McBurglar?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Fine. You got get Ducky to bring the cavalry. I’ll go with Richardson. If nothing else I can distract them until the team gets there.”

 

“I’ll be as quick as I can.”

 

“You do that. Just don’t give Ducky another heart attack, alright?”

 

“Right.” He started to leave but turned to glance at his partner one last time. “Good luck, Tony.”

 

Tony just nodded and left to keep an eye on Richardson while Tim walked through the wall to the backyard and retrieved the cell phone from the window sill. He carefully carried it to a row of bushes at the edge of the property and hid it there before heading for Ducky’s townhouse.

 

Once he had found the M.E.’s residence and was inside, he paused to figure out how to best get the man’s attention without scaring him too much. He checked the ground floor and found Ducky dozing in an armchair in his library. Tim eyed the rows of books on the shelves and shrugged.

 

_It worked before…_

 

He checked and saw that, surprisingly, Ducky also had an old typewriter, but it did not have any paper. He scanned the room and finally rested on the reading lamp next to Ducky’s chair.

 

_Here goes nothing…_

 

He carefully pushed one of the largest books to the edge of he shelf and knocked it to the floor where it landed with a loud thump. Ducky immediately sat up and blearily glanced around.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

Tim pressed the lamp switch to turn it off and on in what he hoped was a recognizable pattern. Ducky watched, wide-eyed, as Tim spelled out his name in Morse code.

 

“Timothy?”

 

YES

 

“What are you doing here? Has something happened to Jethro?”

 

Tim let out a soft sigh of relief at the older man’s astuteness and flashed a response. He then spelled out what he wanted.

 

“Typewriter?” Ducky glanced across the room at the old Imperial sitting on his desk. “Oh, of course!” He immediately got up and found some paper to roll into the machine. Tim hurried over and started to type.

 

**Richardson’s goons took Gibbs. Got his cell phone. In a bush in Richardson’s backyard: 364 D Ave SW. Take to NCIS to track call.**

 

“Yes, of course. Allow me to…”

 

**Hurry.**

 

Ducky nodded and went to get dressed. He soon returned and Tim followed him out the door to Ducky’s Morgan. They both climbed in and Ducky drove to the address he had given. He quickly found the phone where Tim had left it and then headed to the Navy Yard.

 

XXX

 

Wendell Martin sighed in frustration. Ziva and Rayna had left to go check a lead, and he was stuck at his desk checking old case files, trying to figure out who could have abducted an NCIS agent, and why. He had taken a break from the search to try to find the source of that text message again, but he wasn’t having any luck. All the trails lead back to Gibbs’ computer, and he knew that was impossible. Gibbs didn’t have the tech savvy to create the electronic trail associated with the message. It made no sense.

 

The ding of the elevator drew his attention and he looked up, hoping to see that Ziva and Rayna had returned. Instead one of the last people he expected to see at this time of night emerged when the doors slid open.

 

“Dr. Mallard? What are you doing here?” Martin paled. “They haven’t found Agent Gibbs…?”

 

“No, lad, not yet. I, however have found something that might help.” He handed Martin the cell phone. “I happened upon Richardson and managed to follow and observe unnoticed. He used that phone and discarded it, so—“

 

“Check the last number dialed. Wait. Where did he discard it? And are you sure this has something to do with Gibbs’ disappearance?” Ducky just glared at him so he turned the phone on to check the last number dialed. “It’s blocked. It’s going to take me awhile, I’m sorry, but--.” Suddenly he felt something shove him backwards in his chair, causing it to roll away from his desk. “What in the hell?” He rose to pull the chair back to it place and froze when he saw the keys on his keyboard lower and raise by themselves. “What…?”

 

Dr. Mallard positioned himself so as to block the computer from the bullpen camera’s view. He leaned down and whispered. “I am sorry, but it seems patience is not a virtue at the moment.”

 

Martin barely heard the older man as he stared at the keyboard, watching the keys depress under flying, invisible fingers. It took a moment for his brain to engage enough to register what he was seeing and a feeling of almost child-like wonder caused a broad smile to appear on his face.

 

“I knew it…” The typing paused a moment, almost as if something was waiting for him to clarify. “I knew they were real. I just knew it!” He barely resisted the urge to do a fist pump as he knelt down next to his chair and looked up at the space in front of his computer.

 

“Is this who I think it is?” He whispered to Dr. Mallard and after a brief moment the M.E. nodded. Martin grinned as he struggled to control the almost giddy sensation coursing through him. “It’s…it’s a pleasure to meet you, Special Agent McGee,” he whispered and the typing paused again before the mouse moved and a word document opened.

 

**Nice to meet you, too.**

 

Martin noticed that the blocked call had been unblocked and the computer was searching for the location. He shook his head in wonder. “You’ll have to teach me that.”

 

**Another time. I have something else you can do.**

 

“Oh, of course…” A series of words and phrases soon appeared, none of which immediately made sense and Martin’s forehead crinkled in confusion.

 

**Richardson’s code. Can you crack it?**

 

Martin studied the words and something popped out at him.

 

“CA civ code 51. Richardson…he’s a lawyer, right? Maybe this is referring to a law: California civil code 51.” Immediately a search engine opened and the words appeared before a new page popped up. “Unruh Civil Rights Act… oh crap.”

 

“What?” Dr. Mallard asked and Martin turned to him, letting his worry show.

 

“First case I worked, the suspect was named Charles Unruh. Odd name, so I remembered it, but…he was implicated in a hit that left a Navy captain dead. Couldn’t find enough evidence to tie him to it, but…”

 

Another window opened and the data on Unruh appeared on the screen. “Known associates: Anthony Parrish…” Martin’s eyes lit up. “Assumption Parish, LA, The abbreviation is AN. AN, Anthony, it fits.”

 

**Schmidt.**

 

“What?”

 

**Kennicutt-Schmidt Law. Astronomy. Another association.**

 

More files appeared. “When Unruh did time, his last cell mate was a Kenneth Schmidtt, another suspected hit man. So who’s _Arak Komijan_ referring to _?”_

 

“Well, those are villages in Iran, in the Markazi province…both with ‘Tarlan’ as part of their name,” Ducky replied, as both words were added to the search and soon the final piece popped up.

 

“Derek Tarlan. Assault, burglary, reputed gun for hire. Richardson was his lawyer for his last run-in. Got him off Scott-free. Damn it. These must be the guys that took Gibbs.”

 

The computer beeped, given them the last location of that phone. “Great, we got it.” Martin picked up his phone to call the Director just as the elevator doors opened and Ziva and Rayna stepped out. “Guys, I’ve got it!” An annoyed voice in his ear caused him to stammer. “Sorry, sir, but I think I know where Agent Gibbs is held, and who’s holding him.”

 

“How?” asked Rayna and Martin sent a worried look at Dr. Mallard, who quickly explained the cell phone. He added that Martin had recovered a code in the phone and they had cracked it. Martin quickly added the information to the phone to back up Dr. Mallard’s story.

 

Soon the agents had all been notified and were on their way out, with Dr. Mallard joining them, leaving Martin alone once more.

 

“Are you still here?” he whispered but the keyboard remained silent. He glanced down at the word file and saw that everything was gone except a three word-phrase at the top of the document.

 

**Good job, Probie.**

 

He let out a short bark of laughter as he shook his head and, with a grin on his face, got back to work.

 

XXX

 

 

Gibbs groaned and slowly opened his eyes. It had been a long time since someone had taken him down that quickly and he wasn’t enjoying the sensation it produced at all.

 

_Gettin’ too old for this crap…_

 

Gibbs let his gaze travel around the room in which he was being held, both his arms and legs tied together and to a chair in the center of said room, which appeared to be part of a warehouse. He noticed one man on the catwalk above, rifle pointed at the floor, watching out the grime-encrusted windows for intruders, while another guarded the door. The man above was small and wiry, and Gibbs suspected he was the second attacker. The man currently watching Gibbs from a few yards away was almost definitely the first, so the man at the door had probably been the one who had pointed a gun at his head.

 

_Three against one. No wonder you got your ass handed to you…_

 

Gibbs returned his gaze to his observer and the man grinned. “I see you’re awake, Agent Gibbs. You’ll regret that soon enough.”

 

“Probably. What do you want?”

 

In one smooth movement, the man stood and backhanded Gibbs across the face. “That.”

 

Gibbs tasted the familiar metallic tang of blood as he waited for the ringing in his ears to clear. “Any particular reason?”

 

“Right now? ‘Cause I can.” He responded and smacked Gibbs again. “Can’t do too much yet. I’m waiting on a paying audience.”

 

“Richardson,” Gibbs guessed and the man laughed. “Got a name? I like to know who’s smackin’ me around. Like to return the favor.”

 

“You don’t need to know. And you won’t be returning no favors, Fed.”

 

“OK…”

 

A shriek of metal drew both of their attentions to the front door as Richardson, dressed in dark jeans and a black sweatshirt, stepped through. He turned briefly to speak to someone else, and Gibbs could see a shadow of another person move to the side as the door closed.

 

Richardson walked over to them and paused a moment before laughing. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Give me a moment, I need some time to enjoy this.” Gibbs said nothing and Richardson laughed again. “Nothing to say, _Agent_ Gibbs?”

 

“Would it make a difference?”

 

“Not really.” He motioned to the other man, who disappeared into the shadows and soon returned with a metal pipe which he handed to Richardson. “I’ve got a job to do, and I’m going to enjoy it no matter what.” He swung the pipe at Gibbs’ left arm and Gibbs bit back a groan as fire erupted in the spot where the pipe connected and soon spread along the length of his arm. Richardson swung again and another blaze of pain shot through Gibbs’ arm as he felt the bone crack.

 

“That all ya got?”

 

“I’m just getting started.” He nodded to the other man and he pulled a knife from his belt which he used to cut the ropes that bound Gibbs to the chair and threw him to the floor.

 

“Two against one. Not really fair.”

 

Richardson snorted. “Fair. What the hell would you know about that? You hide behind that badge and expect it excuses you from breaking the law. I know damn well that ‘confidential informant’ was a load of crap. How did you find my lab, Gibbs?”

 

Gibbs smirked. “A little bird told me.”

 

Richardson swung the pipe at Gibbs’ ribs and he clenched his jaw to keep from screaming as they cracked under the blow.

 

“Try again.”

 

Gibbs let out a breathy laugh. “McGee.”

 

Richardson paused as confusion crossed his face. “Agent McGee? I thought he was dead.”

 

“He is.”

 

Richardson growled and swung again, this time landing the blow across Gibbs lower leg. “You think you’re funny? Tell me, or I’ll— “A loud clatter outside drew his attention and Richardson turned towards the door. “What in the hell was that?” He marched towards the door as the other man and the gunman on the catwalk pointed their weapons at Gibbs.

 

The guard at the door yanked it open, only to be slammed to the ground by the body of another man as it flew through the entrance way.

 

“Tarlan?” Richardson ran over and checked the doorway. “Who’s out there?” Not hearing an answer, he yanked the door shut and checked the body on top of the groaning guard, snatching his hand back after checking it for a pulse and grabbing his own gun. He yanked the body off the guard and pulled the guard to his feet.

 

“Find who took him out. Go!”

 

“I can’t see no one out there,” the gunman yelled from the catwalk.

 

“Well there must be somebody. Find them and—.” A strangled yell from the catwalk drew Richardson’s attention and he watched in horror as the gunman’s tried to back away from something, only to break through the railing and his body plummeted to the floor, landing with a wet smack. Richardson immediately ran back over to Gibbs and pointed a gun at his head. “Come out, now! Or I’ll blow his brains out!” Silence. He scanned the area above but there was no movement, no evidence of the intruder.

 

Suddenly the gun was ripped from his hand by an unseen force and he was knocked to the ground. The guard at the door panicked and ran for the other exit, only to be taken down by a shelving unit that toppled over on top of him as he let out a blood curdling scream.

 

“Man, what the _f—?_ ” The other man was struck in the head by a flying piece of metal from the shelf and he fell backward, unchecked, hitting the floor with a crash.

 

Richardson stared at the man’s body before turning to Gibbs. “What…how are you--?” His voice cut out and he began to choke as his body started to lift off the ground.

 

“Stop!”

 

Richardson’s ascent paused and he stared wide-eyed at Gibbs. “Who--?” The unseen grip tightened and he struggled to breathe. “Please…don’t…”

 

“Let him go. He’s done. Let him pay for it. It’s a fate worse than death for him, trust me.”

 

“How would you know?” A voice growled and Gibbs winced. It was nearly unrecognizable, but he finally had confirmation of what he suspected.

 

“I don’t know, Tony. I don’t know what will happen to you if you don’t stop…but I can guess…and it won’t be anything good.”

 

Suddenly Richardson’s body fell to the ground and he gasped, hands moving to his throat. “What in the hell was that?”

 

Before Gibbs could answer, the door crashed open and the room was suddenly filled with armed agents. He collapsed back against the floor, breathing heavily and still trying to take in the destructive force he had witnessed. Soon he felt gentle hands on him, removing his bonds and checking his pulse. He opened his eyes and saw a familiar pair of blue eyes staring down at him.

 

“Can’t stay out of trouble for a second, can you Jethro?”

 

Gibbs managed a weak smirk before a jolt of pain spiked through him and the world faded to black.

 

XXX

 

Tony watched with shaking limbs as the scene around him was filled with activity: Gibbs was taken away for medical treatment, as were the other four men who had survived his outburst. The gunman on the catwalk was the only casualty.

 

“ _Tony?”_

 

He turned to see Tim approaching, worry clear in his expression. He was unable to respond.

 

“ _Tony, are you OK?”_

 

He tried to answer, tried to offer some sort of smart-ass response, but he was numb.

 

“ _Tony!”_

 

He felt the strength leave his legs and he fell to the floor of the warehouse, unable to stop his descent. It didn’t hurt when he landed. In fact, he felt nothing at all.

 

“ _Tony, answer me! Please!”_

 

_Sorry, Probie_ was his last thought before he slipped into the welcoming darkness.

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Tim watched in horror as Tony splintered into a million tiny, translucent particles. He stood there, a look of utter shock on his face, and not a damn soul to see it. He ran a hand over his face, steadfastly ignoring the tears that were starting to form, and turned to watch them clean up, arrest everybody, and do all the tie up work.

 

“Timothy?” Ducky called his name, holding out his phone. “Are you still around? Anthony?” He spun around. “I have my mobile phone and you may use it to write to me if you are.” He continued to hold out the small, older model phone, waiting for a response.

 

Tim spurred himself into action, grabbing the phone and replying.

 

**Tony's gone, I think, Ducky. I'm going to follow Gibbs.**

 

Ducky inhaled sharply when Tim set the phone back down. “That is quite unnerving my boy. Did I tell you....” He started a story, but stopped when something pressed his hand closer to his body, drawing his attention to the phone in his hand. “Well. You all are more like your boss than is often wise,” he murmured, reading the text. “Oh, dear. My sympathies, my dear boy. Yes. Go with Jethro. Do not … disturb the equipment, however.” Tim grabbed his sleeve, yanked on it like a child, frustration pouring through him, feeling almost as angry at the situation as Tony did. “Well, you're right. Forgive me. You do know better than that. Go on, then, my boy, and catch up. It would be easier for him to have someone with him, especially since ...” Ducky didn't have to finish his sentence. Tim knew what he would say. 'Since you are all each other has left.'

 

Tim patted Ducky's shoulder, moving the shirt enough to make it feel like a tap, and then moved away, the tap his apology and farewell. He joined the EMTs in the van, making sure not to touch anything. He watched in silence as they worked on Gibbs, treating the worst of his injuries.

 

XXX

 

Tobias watched impassively as the lawyer got what he deserved. Of course, he was yelling about his rights the whole way. “I don’t know how you found me out, but it’s not going to stand up in court…” He smirked, though he didn’t know how Jethro and his team had done it. Knowing that bunch, though, he figured it involved ‘faith and trust and a pinch of pixie dust.’ He rolled his eyes. He and Emily had watched Peter Pan recently. It showed. Maybe the guy could get off as the crazy bastard he was.

 

He needed to find out what really happened. He had a report to write.

 

“Doctor Mallard,” Tobias walked over to where the eccentric old man stood. “Care to tell me what the hell happened in here?” He had heard rumors and they didn't make any sense. If they were true, he'd have to apologize to Jethro. Or at least buy him a beer.

 

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” The enigmatic ME quoted Shakespeare at him. Which worried him, because it meant that there were probably hinky things going on. “I should only like to tell this story once. Therefore, let us go to the hospital, and when everyone is around, I shall tell our tale.”

 

Tobias looked around, saw that both teams had everything pretty much wrapped up. The men were being handed off to be taken to holding, and no one else was injured. Nothing needed done immediately, except for seeing how the old bastard was. “Yeah, alright,” he nodded to the vehicles. “Let's go.”

 

“Indeed. They are most likely headed to Bethesda.” Mallard looked over at the ambulance pulling out. He watched the way it turned out of the parking lot, and nodded. “Yes. That is Damian. Lovely young man. They are headed to Bethesda.”

 

Tobias blinked. Mallard could tell who it was by how the guy drove? He shook his head, and then turned to the man. “Yeah, alright. Let's go. If this is...” He wiggled his hand, not wanting to use their favorite word. “Strange, I'm gonna need to have _something_ to put in my report. If I'm hearin' correctly, it ain't gonna fly.”

 

“We are all good at a bit of occupational prevarication from time to time, are we not?” Mallard grinned.

 

_Oh, god,_ Tobias thought. It was gonna be one of _those._

 

XXX

 

Leon Vance drove to Bethesda on his own, his protective detail in the seats beside him and behind him. Martin and Fontaine were getting a ride with David, which left only Mallard, Palmer and Sciuto. He frowned, passing a red sportscar. The news he'd heard from the incident didn't make any sense. He was afraid the team was going to tell him something crazy, and he'd have to believe it. Again. He'd remembered a story his grandma had told him about the wind telling her to go check on his aunt. Turned out his aunt had gotten herself stuck in something. Nothing dangerous, but she'd been small enough to be scared, and if Granny hadn't gotten her out, it could've been a really bad thing. The wind. The wind. He shook his head, and pulled into the hospital, ignoring the concerned look from the agent beside him. He slid out of the seat, leaving one agent to park while the other came with him. Morris would catch up to them quickly enough.

 

He and Carter strode through the halls, the on-duty nurse directing him to the right room without much fuss. He nodded his thanks, and they kept on moving. Once they arrived at the floor, Leon noticed the whole gaggle of them plus Tobias Fornell of the FBI standing around, looking kind of forlorn.

 

“Director.” Of course, it was Doctor Mallard that was the first to greet him.

 

“Ducky.” Vance nodded. “How is he?”

 

“He's bruised, lost a little blood. Two ribs are bruised, and a bone in his arm is broken, but nothing more damaging than that. He is being rather stubborn. He's awakened a couple times already. He wishes to leave, but we all know that's not going to happen until they're ready to release him. They have given him a little bit of the stronger pain medication to help him sleep and to keep him as immobile as he can while he heals a little.”

 

“Good. Glad to hear it.” And he was. If Jethro Gibbs _wasn't_ fighting the doctors, it was a bad sign. He turned to face the group and gestured to the collection of seats nearby. “Sit down, please.” He found his own seat, and sighed. “Alright. Doctor Mallard, I need the story from you, and this time, the full and complete story.”

 

“Are you certain you want to hear it, Director? It is a tale that will require some belief to understand.” Ducky looked over at him, all joking completely gone from his expression.

 

“It's hinky,” Abby added. “I mean, what I know of it is.”

 

“I have heard some stories of my own, Abby. I know what you're talkin' about.” He shrugged. “Tell me. If we have to spin this up, we all need to be on the same page.”

 

“I do not have the whole story. Only Jethro does. However, I can piece together most of it. I have a feeling that Corporal Kruse was brought in because he is a dear friend of Jethro's and would cover the real witness nicely. So, perhaps that might be something we can look into for another ...” Mallard shook his head, and snorted self-deprecatingly. “Forgive me. I am getting ahead of myself. Jethro has been able to hear the voices of our two lost agents – I believe since we lost them.”

 

“McGee and DiNozzo?” Leon's eyebrows rose in that incredulous expression he was sure he wore every day around this bunch.

 

“The very same, yes.” Ducky nodded. “I received enough proof when they spoke through Jethro.”

 

“That explains all that in my office.” Leon said, the dots finally connecting. “He knew exactly what to tell Senior and Admiral McGee. I wondered if you all had discussed final wishes, or if he was just BSing again and had hit it correctly.” He shook his head. “So. Let me guess. One of our boys followed Richardson home, spied on him, found out where he went, and reported back to Gibbs.”

 

“That appears to be the case, yes. They must have learned how to manipulate matter to a small extent, because they have done a few things...”

 

Martin broke in. “Like messing around with my computer.”

 

“Like messing around with Wendell's computer. Exactly.” Ducky continued. Agent Fornell had an incredulous look on his face, and Leon noticed it, quirking his brow at him in a silent question.

 

“You all believe him? Gibbs can be so full of crap sometimes...”

 

“I have a text message here,” Ducky pulled out his phone and passed it over to Fornell. “It was typed into my phone while it hovered in midair. It appears that I typed it.”

 

Palmer gave a snort. “Yeah, right.” Leon looked over, tilted his head, and Palmer continued. “It's just that Doctor Mallard doesn't … text anyone unless he's engaged in a meeting and it's urgent. It's rude, he says.”

 

“Quite right, Mister Palmer,” the ME replied. “If you'll note the timestamp, all of the rest of you save Fornell had left the scene.”

 

“Alright, Ducky,” Fornell admitted. “You make a pretty convincing case.”

 

“Yeah. Continue on with the story, please.” Leon gestured, and the all fell silent, except for the doctor.

 

He kept explaining what had happened, how he, Martin and McGee had decoded Richardson's code and how the men were the ones at the warehouse. “If you search, you may find the beginnings of a vast empire of crime.” Ducky spoke with the anger of one who'd fought for long years against the evils of drugs. Leon understood that. He had too.

 

“We've got some idea, yeah,” Fornell responded. “That's why I was so mad at Jethro when his 'witness' stumbled on to Richardson's warehouse. We'd been watching some of the players for months, but couldn't find their base. They had that other place to work out of.”

 

“Either Timothy or Anthony must have followed him. I am uncertain. Then, the man somehow returned back here, told Jethro where to go, and Jethro acted with his usual efficiency, and disregard for the consequences.” Abby looked ready to speak, but Ducky held up his hand. “No, my dear. I mean no disrespect for our fearless team leader. However, the man does tend to act when he has the appropriate information. It is part of what makes you such an effective team.”

 

Abby nodded, granting the point.

 

“Go on, Doctor.” Leon leaned back in his seat, wishing for a toothpick.

 

“You know most of the rest, I assume. I imagine there was some convincing when it came to Corporal Kruse, but perhaps our young men had a hand in that as well.” Ducky smiled. “So, perhaps you should all consider what our story shall be while I go check up on our good team leader?”

 

“Sounds like a plan, Doctor Mallard. Thank you.” Leon smiled, shook Ducky's hand, and turned to the group. “So? Two things: How to explain this one, and how to plan should our boys want to be involved again. Anybody have any ideas?”

 

XXX

 

Tim stood in the corner of the room, watching over Gibbs. The other man had been given some strong medication, and was slipping in and out of sleep. Tim had to fight to breathe, which was crazy considering he didn't actually _breathe_. He knew exactly what it was – he'd had panic attacks like this before. Usually after he'd gotten out of the situation, luckily, but they had happened. He tried to slow down his breathing, but he couldn't, and the heaving breaths turned into sobs.

 

“ 'Gee?” Tim looked up to where Gibbs lay on the bed. “Whasswrong?” They'd given him something for the pain, and though he hadn't gotten too dopey, he had slept for a while. Not heavily enough, apparently.

 

“Sorry, Boss.” He couldn't prevent his voice from cracking.

 

“Never...” Tim shook his head, and cut off his team leader.

 

“No, Boss, this time I have to apologize. Tony... did all that, took all those guys out, and then...” He bit his lip, falling silent for a moment as he finally was able to compose himself. “He … sort of dissipated. Like a raincloud or something.”

 

“Dammit.” Gibbs swore gruffly. “You boys did good, Tim.” He heard the sympathy in Gibbs' voice.

 

“Thank you, Boss,” Tim replied, sliding down to sit on the floor, curling up. He felt alone. He wasn't. Not with Gibbs still able to hear him. But no one could see him. No one would be able to tell where he was if something happened and he couldn't speak or manipulate anything. He was completely alone.

 

Gibbs grunted, and set about trying to sit up a little more.

 

Tim lowered his head, silent for a long moment. Then, he spoke. “Is this how you felt when we died?”

 

“Probably.” Gibbs pulled no punches. He never had.

 

“Damn. I'm sorry.” He moved to sit in the chair by the bed, at least until someone else needed it.

 

“Don't be. Still talkin' to you.” Gibbs sounded tired. Tim decided to let him sleep.

 

“Sleep, Boss. I'll be here. If I'm not, I'll come back when I know you're awake.” He sighed, still feeling empty and drained. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his composure and let his boss sleep.

 

“What? You can't let him go to sleep yet. Does he have a concussion?” Tim's eyes blinked wide open at the voice.

 

“Tony, you idiot! Where have you been?” He stood up, moving over to slug Tony in the arm. “You … melted. Turned into atoms or something. I thought you were _gone_!”

 

“Uh,” Tony rubbed at his arm, and then scratched at his head. “I … don't know. I just remember apologizing and then floating away. Like falling asleep? I guess? And then I felt myself here. I don't know.”

 

“Too much anger.” Gibbs' eyes were still closed, but his voice sounded relieved. “You spent too much energy at once. Like … havin' a …” He let his voice trail off. The drugs must have been working well.

 

“Like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum and falling asleep on the floor.” Tim snorted, smile smug, though he was relieved Tony was back, too.

 

“Yeah,” Gibbs replied, then fell back asleep, overcome with the medication.

 

“So, what happened? I mean, I know we got the guys. I got the guys.” Tony's smug grin was good to see, but Tim gave him a head slap just the same.

 

“Don't do that again, Tony. I didn't think you were coming back.” His voice broke a little on the last word, unfortunately.

 

Tony started to say something flippant, but he looked up at Tim's face. “Yeah, alright. I'll try my best. I'll have to watch how much energy I use on the idiots. Or save that kind of thing for absolute emergencies.”

 

“You do that.” Tim returned to the chair.

 

“Hey, why do you get the chair, and I don't?”

 

“Because I was here first, and because I'll get up when someone else wants it instead of letting them sit … in the same place first.”

 

“Good point, McSmarty-pants.” Tony grinned, then leaned over, clapping his partner on the shoulder. “Didn't mean to worry you.”

 

“Yes you did,” Tim replied with a snort.

 

“Shu-up,” Gibbs growled from the bed, not completely awake.

 

“Yes, Boss,” they both chimed.

 

At that moment, Ducky appeared in the doorway. “Jethro, stop talking to Timothy and go to sleep.”

 

“Tony, too.” Gibbs made a wild gesture toward them, then tried to focus on Ducky.

 

“Well, that is pleasant news to hear. If you would let him sleep, he would get better much more efficiently.” Ducky stepped further in, grabbed the chart and looked pointedly at the door.

 

“Alright, Ducky, don’t get your panties in a wad.” Tony sniped. “Don’t pass that on, Boss. You go back to sleep. We’ll be just outside with the team. Get better. C'mon. We can go talk out near the others. Listen to what they're saying.” He jerked his head toward the door. Tim had to concede that it was a good idea.

 

To their surprise, Director Vance was telling a story. “So, Granny went back there, and Aunt Vonda's got herself all tangled up in one of her yarn boxes. Not the stuff she was currently using. But the old stuff. And it's dark, and Vonda's screamin' up a storm...”

 

THE END

 


End file.
